Saturday Night Poem by Robert Kirkland Kernighan

How pleasant is Saturday night !

When all the week by our duty we 've stood ;
How pleasant is Saturday night,

When we Ve tried every day to be good.
How splendid is Saturday night !

When the trial and the labor is done :
When the frock that we promised the baby,

And the purse for his mother are won.

How bitter is Saturday night,

When your presence no fireside seeks ;
How painful is Saturday night

To the one who has idled for weeks.
How awful is Saturday night

And its lesson you sorrowing learn :
That the days full of hope that you idled away.

With their chances, will never return.