A Penitential Week Poem by Carolyn Wells

The week had gloomily begun
For Willie Weeks, a poor man's
SUN.

He was beset with bill and dun,
And he had very little
MON.

'This cash,' said he, 'won't pay my dues,
I've nothing here but ones and
TUES.'

A bright thought struck him, and he said:
'The rich Miss Goldrocks I will
WED.'

But when he paid his court to her,
She lisped, but firmly said: 'No,
THUR.'

'Alas,' said he, 'then I must die!
Although hereafter I may
FRI.'

They found his gloves, and coat, and hat;
The Coroner upon them
SAT.