We are the people who move your mail at night And in spite of our bosses we usually get it right Mail comes on a truck and it goes out on a truck It goes around It goes in a machine and it comes out again It goes around We don’t know about the hail or sleet or snow We brave the gloom of night to make your mail go. Mail comes on a truck and it goes out on a truck It goes around Mail goes in a machine and it comes out again It goes around Big chief sticks his nose in every bin Doesn’t have a clue why they’re paying him Doesn’t trust his staff with a single thing That’s why they’re all despising him They treat us like we are dumb So we oblige them and make it fun We are the people who move your mail at night And in spite of our management we usually get it right Mail comes on a truck and it goes out on a truck It goes around Mail goes in a machine and comes out the other end It goes around We are the people who move your mail at night Don’t worry bout us, it will be all right The mail comes on truck and it leaves on a truck It goes around We live, we die, we don’t ask why It goes around.