On
Wednesday nights of every week
For supper we have pie;
Pie
deep and juicy, large and round,
A joy to mouth and eye.
It
is so strange – I’ve wondered oft
It comes on Wednesday night;
And
yet is there, and never fails
My palate to delight.
Wife
knows I’m very fond of pie,
She knows it makes me glad;
And
any wife would rather have
Her husband aught than sad.
She
knows when I have eaten pie
I’m generous and bright;
And
so I find it at my plate
On every Wednesday night.
I
don’t know why ‘tis Wednesday night,
Yet there ‘tis sure to be;
I’m
not mistaken in the time,
As you can easy see.
I
know it’s Wednesday night; on that
I couldn’t go astray,
Because
it is the very night
I get my weekly pay.
Nov.
8, ‘10
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