Father wears his Sunday best
Mother's tired she needs a rest
The kids are playing up downstairs
Sister's sighing in her sleep
Brother's got a date to keep
He can't hang aroundOur house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of ourOur house it has a crowd
There's always something happening
And it's usually quite loud
Our mum she's so house-proud
Nothing ever slows her down
And a mess is not allowedOur house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of ourOur house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our
Something tells you that you've got to get away from itFather gets up late for work
Mother has to iron his shirt
Then she sends the kids to school
Sees them off with a small kiss
She's the one they're going to miss
In lots of waysOur house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of ourI remember way back then when everything was true and when
We would have such a very good time such a fine time
Such a happy time
And I remember how we'd play simply waste the day away
Then we'd say nothing would come between us two dreamersFather wears his Sunday best
Mother's tired she needs a rest
The kids are playing up downstairs
Sister's sighing in her sleep
Brother's got a date to keep
He can't hang aroundOur house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our streetOur house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of ourOur house, was our castle and our keep
Our house, in the middle of our streetOur house, that was where we used to sleep
Our house, in the middle of our streetOur house, in the middle of our street
Songwriters
CARL SMYTH, CHRIS FOREMAN, DANIEL WOODGATE, GRAHAM MCPHERSON, LEE THOMPSON, MARK BEDFORD, MICHAEL BARSONPublished by
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