When the bells ring on Sunday, we go to the park And we watch the week ending And the bells keep on ringing until it gets dark Hear the constables cursing And the building we live in is tiny and old Like a Volkswagen beetle And the district attorney, he lives right next door And he waves from the window He waves from the window And we are but seven, and seven we are And we each are named after a different car And the man who delivers our mail has a scar But he tells us he likes it And the baby is Chrysler, and she's only two And she lives in a cradle And we haven't quite figured what mom and dad do When they leave in the morning They leave in the morning And the buses are always a little bit late But the shops open early And the bells ring exactly at seven past eight And again at eight-thirty When the weathervane spins, we all lay in our beds And the thunder sounds just like the bells in our heads And the sunsets are yellow and purple and red And we're happy to see them We're happy to see them