It’s Saturday night
and we’re still hopping. . .
weekend’s deep respite
and bright delight
show no signs of stopping.
My smiles I send straight out to you
and hope your happiness will too
grow full,
or at least
start its up-cropping.
It’s Saturday night
and we’re still hopping. . .
weekend’s deep respite
and bright delight
show no signs of stopping.
My smiles I send straight out to you
and hope your happiness will too
grow full,
or at least
start its up-cropping.