There'll be plates piled high with deep fried chicken And a mess of possum stew There'll be tater pie that's finger lickin' At the Sunday barbecue
The paper says the fun commences At exactly half past two Gonna eat so much I'll lose my senses At the Sunday barbecue
The Sunday barbecue, the Sunday barbecue Gonna be there when the fun commences At the Sunday barbecue
There'll be tug-of-war and cotton candy And a boxin' kangaroo Watermelon pickles soaked in brandy At the Sunday barbecue
They'll hear that old brass band a-playin' All the way to Timbuktu Everyone in town'll be sashayin' To the Sunday barbecue
The Sunday barbecue, the Sunday barbecue Everyone in town'll be sashayin' To the Sunday barbecue
If we wanna do some bill and cooin' We can twenty three skidoo (skidoo) There's a lake where we can go canoein' At the Sunday barbecue (barbecue)
We'll hide behind your red umbrella If we want a kiss or two (kiss or two) And they'll know that I'm your special fella At the Sunday barbecue
The Sunday barbecue, the Sunday barbecue Yes, they'll know that I'm your special fella At the Sunday barbecue Yes, they'll know that I'm your special fella At the Sunday barbecueTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.