Late af-ter-noon an-o-ther day is near-ly done
That hol -ow hur-ried sound
Of feet on pol-ished floor
And in the dol-lar store
The clerk is clos-ing up
And count-ing loon-nies try-ing not to say
I hate Win-ni-peg
The dri-ver checks his mir-ror sev-en min-utes late
The same route ev-ery day
and in the turn-ing lane
Some-one's stalled a-gain
He's talk-ing to him-self
And here's the price of gas re-peat his phrase
I hate Win-ni-peg And up a-bove us all Lean-And sing I love this town
Then watch his arc-ing wreck-ing ball pro-claim
A dar-ker grey is break-ing through a light-er one
The crow-ded ri-ders rest-less-ness en-un-ci-ates
ing in to sky Our
A thous-and sharp-ened el-bows in the un-der-ground
The Guess Who sucked the Jets were lou-sy an-y-way
gol-den bus-iness boy Will
watch the north end die And
