Tuesday Poem

Tuesday’s child,

Full of grace

Excluded from

Beauty,

Saved from

Woe, by two

Dozen hours

Or so.

Fickle time

Declares which

Gifts might be 

Bestowed, 

Based on a stroke

Of luck or the

Hands of a

Clock.

Tick tock.

  

As a child this poem always bothered me. It seemed to put poor Wednesday at a disadvantage from birth, while Sunday got all the good stuff. Hardly fair!  Always interested in justice, that’s me. Oh, I was born on a Friday in case anyone’s keeping tabs.

Monday’s child is fair of face, Tuesday’s child is full of grace, Wednesday’s child is full of woe, Thursday’s child has far to go, Friday’s child is loving and giving, Saturday’s child works hard for a living, But the child who is born on the Sabbath day Is fair and wise and good in every way.

^{Peace, People!}