Every week, it's same old thing,
'Mondays bring no joy', we sing,
While Tuesdays ,Wednesdays and Thursdays seem bearable,
But during Friday evenings, our patience level seem negligible,
Waiting for the weekend to spring.
The farmer stares, At open skies, Hopelessly searching, For fluffy thick clouds. To his dismay, The sky is blue, The sun is out, Shining sha...