The day got unusually hard

Street light at night

Was a bright Monday morn, I awoke with the dawn
And I looked out and into our yard.
But nevertheless, I have to confess
The day got unusually hard.

On Mondays we grate, we chop and we bake
I love it, just feels like a winner
We toil for a reason, we taste and we season
To cook you a bloomin' good dinner.

And when it's all cooked, the veg and the chook
We clean up and head off for home
But oh what a fright, a horrible sight!
I'll tell you my tale of great woe

Well just look at that! The tyre is flat!
The spare it is carefully stowed.
No sense in crying, or even in whining
The van, it quite simply won't go!

On the phone I did yelp, "I rather need help!"
One junior was already in bed.
But they came looking chipper, in their 'jamas and slippers
Now propped in their car seats instead.

I stood in the night, 'til the crew was in sight
The rescuers didn't come far
Brought a jack and a wrench, but complained of the stench
Seems my odour was filling the car.

Not in bed, they were free, and were watching in glee
Mum and Dad kneeling down on the road
They weren't to be hindered, leaning out of the wind-ers
To shout and to cheer and to goad.

That tyre got changed, the spares rearranged
To my helpers, I'm grateful, of course
And during the week, I'll take a short break
And on Monday I'll head back for more!