Buried deep within my mind
There is a dread of some kind
Oh, it keeps me fitful all night
I awake grim as the day’s bright.
In life’s daily grind did we do well?
How did the day go, it ought to tell
If you wake up grouchy, ill-at-ease
or lively and happy, eager to please.
My night foretells how my day will be
How well I slept or a nightmare I see,
If I get a good night’s sleep and I say
I’m nice and dandy; it’ll be a good day.
I wake up on the right side of the bed
and wish well to all tom, dick and ted,
I’ll find time to stop and smell the rose
and celebrate each given day I suppose.
Then this will be my kind of the day
and I will share my smiles all the way,
With sun shining on me, a clear heart
a hot cup of tea – it’s a good-day’s start!
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