| Sadie, the cleaning lady
 | 
| With trusty scrubing brush and pale of water
 | 
| Worked her fingers to the bone
 | 
| For the life she had at home
 | 
| Providing at the same for her daughter
 | 
| Oh Sadie, the cleaning lady
 | 
| Her aching knee’s not getting any younger
 | 
| Well her red detergent hands
 | 
| Have for years not held a mans
 | 
| And time would find her hard in spite of hunger
 | 
| Scrub your floors, do your chores
 | 
| Dear old Sadie
 | 
| Looks as though you’ll always be a cleaning lady
 | 
| Can’t afford to get board
 | 
| Dear old Sadie
 | 
| Looks as though you’ll always be a cleaning lady
 | 
| Oh Sadie, the cleaning lady
 | 
| Her female mind would find a way of trapping
 | 
| Though as gentle as a lamb
 | 
| Sam the elevator man
 | 
| So she could spend the night by tv napping
 | 
| Oh Sadie, the cleaning lady
 | 
| Her aching knee’s not getting any younger
 | 
| Well her red detergent hands
 | 
| Have for years not held a mans
 | 
| And time would find her hard in spite of hunger
 | 
| Scrub your floors, do your chores
 | 
| Dear old Sadie
 | 
| Looks as though you’ll always be a cleaning lady
 | 
| Can’t afford to get board
 | 
| Dear old Sadie
 | 
| Looks as though you’ll always be a cleaning lady
 | 
| Oh Sadie, the cleaning lady
 | 
| Her Sam was what she got for crying and singing
 | 
| To her solo and dismay
 | 
| She’s still working 'till this day
 | 
| Her sam then that to be another singer
 | 
| Scrub your floors, do your chores
 | 
| Dear old Sadie
 | 
| Looks as though you’ll always be a cleaning lady |