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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

She comes here night,
She me Sunday noon;
Two and one day
Always to end too soon.
She on weekends,
Then she go her separate
Until she's in my again
I the nights and days.
Well Sunday ain't too bad,
my pretty guest;
And though I've missing her,
I up on my rest.
She on weekends,
Then she go her separate
she's in my arms again
I the nights and days.
But Monday a rough one,
Went to work that day;
I come home to these rooms
She's four nights away.
She on weekends,
Then she go her ways;
she's in my arms again
I count the and days.
By Tuesday I'm doubting,
see her ever again,
And if throughout the week
There's gentlemen.
She on weekends,
she go her separate ways;
Until she's in my again
I the nights and days.
Wednesday is half-way
Just two nights to go
of time a'flying by
It's on too slow.
She on weekends,
she go her separate ways;
Until she's in my arms
I count the and days.
By Thursday I'm hopeful,
And I stock up and wine,
Anticipating her
I clean up this of mine.
She on weekends,
Then she go her separate
Until she's in my again
I count the and days.
On Friday I'm eager,
The night I've for,
To her footsteps in the hallway,
Her little upon my door.
She on weekends,
Then she go her separate
Until she's in my arms
I count the and days.