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.