(Saturday's child works hard for a living.)

Ride the bus down a busy street,
Glancing at the passing folk,
The hidden personalities I'll never meet,
Rushing and running,
Heading on their way,
Their rushing from their homeland,
To greet the troubles of the day,
Saturday can be a peace,
It can be a hell.
It's a day on Earth,
That's it worth.

(Friday's child is loving and giving.)

I was given the gift of another day,
I can breathe deeply,
And smile to the sun of a Friday morn,
I feel like a child; I'm lucky i'm alive,
I feel blessed to have been born.

The weekend is approaching,
The stress of the week is unfolding,
My head starts to lighten,
And my shoulders loosen,
I'm happy,
I'm free.

(Thursday's child has far to go.)

Look at the road ahead,
I have never travelled it,
I'm scared of making my bed,
Before i've even laid in it,
But i have a destiny that i must reach,
That's the truth that Thursday breeds.

(Wednesday's child is full of woe)

Darling I love you,
You made me smile in the rain,
I'm feeling like a newborn babe,
In a world of Wednesday pain,
The clock is ever ticking,
And the sun would never rise,
But I look in to the mirror,
And see the sadness in my eyes.

Though your arms surround me,
And kisses make me weak,
It's of the misery and pain,
That I can never speak,
So deep inside, locked in this shell,
Are the fear and the dread,
The agony of knowing nightmares,
Await me when I rest my head.

(Tuesday's child is full of grace.)

An elegant flower upon my table,
A tulip standing proud,
Tuesday is upon me and the world is fine,
Friends gather near me,
We talk amongst the breeze,
We laugh at the seasons that bring us to our knees.

(Monday's child is fair of face.)

A beam of sunlight hits my eyes,
I wake to the sound of a bird,
The chirping travels through the beam,
And echoes to all my senses,
I'm alive once again on this tender Monday morn.

I cross across the marble floor to where the day awaits,
And see the children laughing at the foot of the garden,
The sound resounds, rebounds from the marble ground,
And makes its way through my nerves,
I'm alive once again in this gentle Monday dawn.

Day of the moon,
Leaves the week too soon,
Day of the moon,
Leaves the week too soon,
Day of the moon.

She wanders around trying to smile,
A brave face,
The picture of denial,
Tries to hide the hurt that grows,
Scared of rejection,
The youth and innocence that no one knows.

Nicola Bolt was working at staying strong,
A road often travelled,
Her journey is too long,
Scared of speaking out, of causing a revolt,
Afraid of crumbling below,
The poor lost soul of Nicola Bolt.