THE GRINDSTONE Each weekend that passes we pull out the stops And come Sunday evening we�re one haggard lot Now my belly�s a-rumbing and my money is spent Time to heard for my job for to pay up my rent It�s a thankless existence for the working class man Just a moment of freedom, then you�re at it again Monday is here, no reason for cheer For it�s back to the grindstone again Well we paddled the river and danced on the sand Played up a jig with me merry old band Cooked on the fire, then drank til I dropped Wishin� to god that this journey wouldn�t stop So free do I feel with my face in the wind But it feels like it�s over before it begins Now I�m singing �Hi ho, it�s to work I must go And it�s back to the grindstone again, again And it�s back to the grindstone again It seems that all good times must come to an end Be it layin� with your sweetheart or drinkin� with friends The wheels of the grindstone keep turning away Time to head for my job for to earn up my pay But I look to the days when adventure returns With gold in my pocket and money to burn And that bloody old grindstone won�t turn anymore And I�m living a life that seems worth living for But �til then I�ll return to the pain and the burn And it�s back to the grindstone again Monday is here, no reason for cheer For it�s back to the grindstone again