Sunny Sundays

Sunny Sundays Sunny Sundays were what we longed for, The beautiful sunshine shining brightly, Waiting for us in the backyard. Sundays were holidays, They seemed to fly, Yet we enjoyed so much, Happiness on our face, we couldn’t reply. Our faces red from the heat, Many a bush did we beat, Playing Farmer Henry and of course his sheep. Ah! These days were what we waited for, The whole week we struggled on and on, For the long awaited return, Of Sunday morning and of course the bright old sun. In the afternoon we sat, Licking ice – creams and lolly, Chattering away to one another, Feeling Ah! So jolly.