Raymond's in his Sunday best.
He's usually up to his chest in oil and grease.
There's the Martin's walkin' in,
With that mean little freckle-faced kid,
Who broke a window last week.
Sweet Miss Betty likes to sing off key in the pew behind me.

That's what I love about Sunday:
Sing along as the choir sways;
Every verse of Amazin' Grace,
And then we shake the Preacher's hand.
Go home into your blue jeans;
Have some chicken and some baked beans.
Pick a back yard football team,
Not do much of anything.
That's what I love about Sunday.

I stroll to the end of the drive,
Pick up the Sunday Times, grab a coffee cup.
It looks like Sally and Ron finally tied the knot,
Well, it's about time.
It's 35 cents off of ground round,
Baby, cut that coupon out!

That's what I love about Sunday:
Cat-napping on the porch swing;
You curled up next to me,
The smell of jasmine wakes us up.
Take a walk down a back road,
Tackle box and a cane pole;
Carve our names in that white oak,
I steal a kiss as the sun fades,
That's what I love about Sunday.
Oh, yeah.

Ooh, new believers gettin' baptized,
Momma's hands raised up high,
Havin' a Hallelujah good time
A smile on everybody's face.
That's what I love about Sunday.
Oh, yeah.

That's what I love about Sunday.
Oh, yeah.

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