Another five sunsets then comes Friday.
Guess whose home and wants "my way"?
Just clean dirty clothes; tweeze his nose,
And, oh yeah, fine dining…I suppose.
It's a Big Mac, a box by Jack
Or the Colonel's wings in a greasy sack.
After that it's to the movies where I can't
hear a word
Because my love keeps asking what was said…
while cackling like a bird.
Don't get me wrong. I can endure and have a
fun day.
‘Cause with clean clothes, nose and hose, he's
off again Sunday!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem