Wednesday’s Child

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On Sundays he’s Bonny and Blithe;

His MP3’s on all day and night.

Monday morning he’s deaf and dumb;

He’ll sleep all day like a bum.

Tuesdays he’s such a grouch;

His fanny stuck to the couch.

He’s  a Wednesday’s child, he’s full of woe;

Wondering how to get up and go.

Thursdays he gets to the shower;

The only day he smells like a flower.

Friday is the time he fights;

And fly up high like a kite.

Saturday morning he smells like a fish;

At night he gets thrown out with dirty dish.

 

 

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