Father wears his Sunday bestMother's tired she needs a restThe kids are playing up downstairsSister's sighing in her sleepBrother's got a date to keepHe can't hang aroundOur house, in the middle of our streetOur house, in the middle of ourOur house it has a crowdThere's always something happeningAnd it's usually quite loudOur mum she's so house-proudNothing ever slows her downAnd a mess is not allowedOur house, in the middle of our streetOur house, in the middle of ourOur house, in the middle of our street(Something tells you that you've got to get away from it)Our house, in the middle of ourFather gets up late for workMother has to iron his shirtThen she sends the kids to schoolSees them off with a small kissShe's the one they're going to missIn lots of waysOur house, in the middle of our streetOur house, in the middle of ourI remember way back then when everything was trueAnd when we would have such a very good timeSuch a fine time, such a happy timeAnd I remember how we'd play simply waste the day awayThen we'd say nothing would come between us, two dreamersFather wears his Sunday bestMother's tired she needs a restThe kids are playing up downstairsSister's sighing in her sleepBrother's got a date to keepHe can't hang aroundOur house, in the middle of our streetOur house, in the middle of our streetOur house, in the middle of our streetOur house, in the middle of ourOur house, was our castle and our keepOur house, in the middle of our streetOur house, that was where we used to sleepOur house, in the middle of our streetOur house, in the middle of our street
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