on working Saturdays

got six deadly bullets,
one for every day,
shoot down your troubles,
dragons you must slay. . .
bullets made of days,
and time is getting old,
sometimes that pistol
gets too hot to hold. . .
long hot hours every day,
sweat amid the strife,
keep that pistol loaded
it might just mean your life. . .
six heavy bullets
filled with fear of fate
six ways to Sunday
don't be a minute late. . .