Then Wednesday—the dear little cook—came in,
Riding cock horse on his rolling-pin.
Thursday followed, with broom and brush,
Her hair in a towel, and she in a rush.
Friday appeared, gayly tripping along;
He scoured the knives and then he was gone.
Saturday last, with a great big tub,
Into which we all jump for a very good rub.
(The children march and sing to the tune of
“Good Morning, Merry Sunshine.”)
Children of the week are we,