PM, November 21, 1947

(This is the number Jess writes for entry into the store's contest, intended to curry favor with the store by showing how eager the workers are to return to work each week).

Good morning, oh!
Good morning, oh!
A Maybe Monday is dawning, oh!
A Maybe week is a-borning, oh!
So hey, goodie gumdrop, good day!

The customers begin to rise -
Sweet dreams of bargains light up their eyes.
The subway is snortin' and steamin', "Let's go!"
And shouting the shoppers a happy "Hello!"

So sip the last rum drop
And don't let your thumb drop
And hey, goodie gumdrop, good day!


Sunday just won't go away -
It comes up ev'ry week.
It lasts for an entire day
And spoils my lucky streak.

Nothing but the radio*
Or swimming at the beach.
The hours never seem to go
When Monday's out of reach.

    *No television in those days

So when Sunday morning rolls around and stares me in the face,
I try to bear my burden with a manly sort of grace.
I say, "Stiff upper lip, my boy," and try to keep in mind
That if Sunday is upon me, Monday can't be far behind.


There's a Monday morning waiting to be born -
Waiting on the happy side of heaven.
A Monday rose to conceal the Sunday thorn
That grows one day in seven.
There's a Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday night 'til nine -
Friday comes and Saturday and then -
While it's Sunday ev'ry Maybe heart will pine
Until it's Monday once again.

© Copyright Labor Arts Inc.