Sundays, as a rule
Us kids went to Sunday School
And Mrs. Adlam said
Angels stood round our bed
To keep us safe from dark
Right through till day begun
And we used to lie awake
Just to try to see one
And though we never saw one anywhere
We heard them softly singing in the air

Sundays occasionally
We were invited back for tea
And bread with jam and cream
Made Sundays seem a dream
In the dingy mission hall
Mrs. Adlam praying
And down the street back home
All our mates were playing
With Mrs. Adlam's angels everywhere
And we thought we saw a halo in her hair

Sundays, for sure
Ain't like that anymore
It's getting hard for me
To see her face in front of me
I wonder if her angels
Have their arms around her curled
Keeping her safe from life
And guarding her from the world
On a summer Sunday evening do I dare
To hear Mrs. Adlam's angels in the air