| I wake and yawn at the crack of dawn | |
| With dewdrops on my feet | |
| As I rise up to greet the morning | |
| Nothing much to eat | |
| Every breath I take seems to make my body ache | |
| My only friend is mist on a Monday morning | |
| Pick up my sack and walk for miles | |
| Never thinking why | |
| To the brewer's yard where I can sit | |
| And watch my life go by | |
| Drink and drink all day till my memory melts away | |
| I need a friend like mist on a Monday morning | |
| Where's my wife, has she gone | |
| I hear misty morning call | |
| One foot resting in the grave | |
| Destined not to see her anymore | |
| There's a den in the grass by the autopath | |
| Of corrugated steel | |
| I may be sleeping there tonight | |
| And depending how I feel | |
| Damp and dirty place | |
| Printing sorrow on my face | |
| With nothing but the mist on a Monday morning | |
| Pick up my sack and walk for miles | |
| Never thinking why | |
| To the brewer's yard where I can sit | |
| And watch my life go by | |
| Drink and drink all day till my memory melts away | |
| I need a friend like mist on a Monday morning | |
| From... I feel the sin | |
| Like wheels upon my feet | |
| Intoxicated by the night | |
| I stumbled in the street | |
| Every breath I take seems to make my body ache | |
| And drift into the mist on a Monday morning |
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