Blue Monday

I went up town last Saturday night, intending to get one drink.
The boys were all standing in front of the bar, telling what they did think.
Their entries they were driving, rooms and pillars too.
I never saw such a mass of coal as around that barroom flew.

Chorus:
But it's always the same blue Monday, blue Monday after pay.
Your shots are bad, your buddy is mad, and the shaft will work all day.
Now I'll have no more blue Mondays to make my hair turn gray.
I'll join the White Ribbon and then I'll be giving my wife the whole of my pay.

The track layers and drivers, machine men and loaders too,
They were all sitting around the table, telling what they could do.
But if they would only stay at home, their dollars and dimes to save.
When a strike comes on they could sing this song, "Operator your work we don't need."