The Weekend Poem by Alan Bruce Thompson

Most look forward to the relaxation of Friday night,
The boss and the workmates finally out of sight.

After a week of stress, I can sleep or drug the mind,
I can stop barking at the wall and for two days be kind.

But what's this? sick kids, and broken toys on the stair,
I need quiet, much attention, and tender loving care.

My wife says she's exhausted too, but that cannot be,
I'm the one who's been at work, oh my! poor me!

What has happened to the promise of little work much play?
Of the social offer to do a week's work in just a day.

I know I should be grateful just to have a job,
But that is no right to treat me as one of the ungrateful mob.