It happened every Sunday, not big, neither, I’m small
After lunch, a Sunday roast, my Dads car, we all would fit
On our way, to the canal, within his boat, we’d sit
A plank we’d face, to join the boat, my legs, they always shook
Me, Three Sisters, One Brother, Mum, even reading books
All aboard, my Dad would shout, Ahoy, we’re on our way
Cruising down the river, Willow trees, would sway
Not long we’d be, the engine stall, my Dad, his toolbox out
In the middle of nowhere, he’d mess, with engine tank
Bored we’d get, now silly, giggle, be naughty so
Hours pass, no movement, shout go home, miss, Muppet show
Finally fixed, were on our way, not long, we’re turning around
I think now back, we never cruised, broke, was always sound
Every Sunday, always same, load up, not moving fast
Instead of cruising Sunday, our boat, it never last
Love, light and healing energies too you all
Tm