Saturday Morning

[Bob Pacey]

Saturday Morning

It’s Saturday morning a new day is dawning
but I struggle to get out of bed.
I feel tired and weary a little bit teary
befuddled not right in the head.

Washing day is this morning but I can’t stop yarning
these are the things must be done.
Ironing and cleaning just have no meaning
and most of them just are no fun.

So I struggle to rise and to my surprise
the dogs wait for food at the door.
They fight with the chickens but how in the dickens
I can’t even get out the door.

My ringneck is squawking it has given up talking
it is now laying eggs on the floor.
I thought it was a male its face was so pale
all it does now is squawk, screech and gnaw.

So I trudge to the chook yard, no eggs oh it’s so hard
I wonder then “what is the trick?”
I’m sure there’s no doubt if I work the cost out
these freeloaders will soon get the flick.

Then I realise to my horror it is Sunday tomorrow
and though I am not one to shirk.
The holidays over no more lying in clover
Cause Monday I go back to Work.

Bob Pacey (c)

[Cropduster]

Good one, Bob. There is not much fun in daily chores. My wife does not seem to enjoy them at all

(I am guessing in the fifth verse it is chook yard, not cook yard, unless you have your own private team of chefs who regularly cook you up a batch of scrambled eggs)

[Bob Pacey]

Noted and fixed thanks Allan

Bob