It was saturday night,Down at the Croche,
Nobody was there,
And nothing was happening.
We thought that it would be a good name for a song,
But then we found out that it was factually wrong,
We never go down the Croche,
When it's not a weekday.
We forgot about that when we wrote the lyrics,
Nobody goes to the Croche on a weekend,
Ol' Munty won't be there to open up the door,
Your efforts with a fire extinguisher were suprisingly 
poor.
We thought that it would be a good name for a song,
But then we found out that it was factually wrong,
We never go down the Croche,
When it's not a weekday.
When we come back at 10:20 Monday morn,
Nothing is different to when we left it before,
People we don't know come in,
We can't think of what to play,
We freeze up and sit there awkwardly until they go away.
We thought that it would be a good name for a song,
But then we found out that it was factually wrong,
We never go down the Croche,
When it's not a weekday.
And Saturday,
Is not,
A weekday.