Old Rhyme on Cutting Nails
Cut them on Monday, you cut them for health;
Cut them on Tuesday, you cut them for wealth;
Cut them on Wednesday, you cut them for news;
Cut them on Thursday, a pair of new shoes;
Cut them on Friday, you cut them for sorrow;
Cut them on Saturday, you'll see your true-love to-morrow;
Cut them on Sunday, and you'll have ill-fortune all through the week.
Here a little child I stand
Here a little child I stand,
Heaving up my either hand;
Gold as paddocks though they be,
Here I lift them up to Thee,
For a benison to fall
On our meat and on us all!
The End
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