Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Saturday
Saturday.
In glowing terms I would this day indite
(Its morn, its noon, its afternoon and night),
The busiest day throughout the week—the latter day;
A day whereon odd matters are made even,
The dirtiest, cleanest too, of all the seven,
The scouring pail, pan, plate, and platter day;
A day of general note and notability,
A plague to gentlefolks and prime gentility,
E'en to the highest ranks—nobility!
And, yet a day (barring all jokes) of great utility,
Both to the rich as well as the mobility.
A day of din—of clack—a clatter day;
For all, howe'er they mince the matter, say
This day they dread;
A day with hippish, feverish, frenzy fed,
Is that grand day of fuss and bustle,—Saturday.
(Its morn, its noon, its afternoon and night),
The busiest day throughout the week—the latter day;
A day whereon odd matters are made even,
The dirtiest, cleanest too, of all the seven,
The scouring pail, pan, plate, and platter day;
A day of general note and notability,
A plague to gentlefolks and prime gentility,
E'en to the highest ranks—nobility!
And, yet a day (barring all jokes) of great utility,
Both to the rich as well as the mobility.
A day of din—of clack—a clatter day;
For all, howe'er they mince the matter, say
This day they dread;
A day with hippish, feverish, frenzy fed,
Is that grand day of fuss and bustle,—Saturday.