| Sadie, the cleaning lady
|
| With trusty scrubing brush and pale of water
|
| Worked her fingers to the bone
|
| For the life she had at home
|
| Providing at the same for her daughter
|
| Oh Sadie, the cleaning lady
|
| Her aching knee’s not getting any younger
|
| Well her red detergent hands
|
| Have for years not held a mans
|
| And time would find her hard in spite of hunger
|
| Scrub your floors, do your chores
|
| Dear old Sadie
|
| Looks as though you’ll always be a cleaning lady
|
| Can’t afford to get board
|
| Dear old Sadie
|
| Looks as though you’ll always be a cleaning lady
|
| Oh Sadie, the cleaning lady
|
| Her female mind would find a way of trapping
|
| Though as gentle as a lamb
|
| Sam the elevator man
|
| So she could spend the night by tv napping
|
| Oh Sadie, the cleaning lady
|
| Her aching knee’s not getting any younger
|
| Well her red detergent hands
|
| Have for years not held a mans
|
| And time would find her hard in spite of hunger
|
| Scrub your floors, do your chores
|
| Dear old Sadie
|
| Looks as though you’ll always be a cleaning lady
|
| Can’t afford to get board
|
| Dear old Sadie
|
| Looks as though you’ll always be a cleaning lady
|
| Oh Sadie, the cleaning lady
|
| Her Sam was what she got for crying and singing
|
| To her solo and dismay
|
| She’s still working 'till this day
|
| Her sam then that to be another singer
|
| Scrub your floors, do your chores
|
| Dear old Sadie
|
| Looks as though you’ll always be a cleaning lady |