(J.Lowe / Lowe Life Music)

When the stars all glitter and the streets are dim and dead
And all decent people are a sleeping in their bed
With their prayers and their ‘Goodnight,Sleep well’ s said
And the moon’s up and in full sail
There’s a banging in the alley and a whistling on the breeze
A churning and a burning and a turning of the wheels
They all roll over in their bed and think of me
When I’m working on the Midnight Mail

Working on the Midnight Mail Working on the Midnight Mail
In my boots with my shovel and my pail
I’ll go working on the Midnight Mail

Don’t tell me your life’s a devil and a drudge,
Well there’s times when I wish you’d let me be the judge,
When I’m up to me middle in the slurry and the sludge,
You could soon see your troubles turning pale,
I could have been a farmer,
A driver of a train,
I could have been a policeman but I knew me father’s name,
So I thought I’d better follow,
In his footsteps (and his stains),
And go working on the midnight mail.


I walk around the houses when the night is black as pitch,
Well there’s some folks poor, and some folks rich,
Believe me when I say that I can reckon which is which,
But you won’t hear me tell tales,
There’s no need to worry about your secrets in the least,
Though I’ve seen things of which I could have made a feast,
Trust in me like a doctor or a priest.
When I’m working on the midnight mail.


One night a fine young lady caught me eye,
But every time I spoke to her she always passed me by,
‘Till my old dad said “perhaps you’d better try,
To be a bit more fresh than stale,”,
So he hosed me, he scrubbed me, he tied me to the chair,
He put a bowl upon me head and tidied up me hair,
But she still walks past me with her nose up in the air,
When I’m working on the midnight mail.


So I turned my attention to another likely lass,
And as time went on, I thought I’d make a pass,
Me mother said she’d even light a candle after mass,
‘Cause she knew that that could never ever fail,
And when I finally summoned up the courage for to speak,
She said that I could come and pay a visit once a week,
So you’ll find us every Tuesday evening cheek to cheek,
When I’m working on the midnight mail.


Then before you know it, it’s the rising of the sun,
And I know by then it’s time that I was gone,
Because a job in the hand is surely worth a job well done.
If you want to hit the head upon the nail,
It’s a fine occupation and I try to do it well,
But there’s one secret that perhaps I’d better tell,
You need a sense of humour, but not a sense of smell,
When you’re working on the midnight mail.



From the album – Bad Penny


Jez Lowe Concerts- Pay What You Feel Link

Jez Lowe – This Is Not My tribe
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