Whether the weather's bad
Or if it's good,
It's always as it is,
Or it should.
The end of the week
Marks a weekend,
And much like a mouse with cheese,
Makes me a squeakend.
I enjoy these times,
These days two (or three)
In which I have
Only one responsibility.
My weekend is yours
As much as it's mine.
And no matter how long,
It's always JUST FINE.
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