Friday`s Child — текст песни (Nancy Sinatra)

Friday`s child.....Hard luck is her brother
Friday`s child.....Her sister`s misery
Friday`s child.....Her daddy they call hard times
Friday`s child.....That`s me

Friday`s child.....Born a little ugly
Friday`s child.... Good looks passed her by..oh
Friday`s child.....Makes something look like nothing
Friday`s child.....Am I..ya

Guitar Solo

Friday`s child.....Never climbed no mountain
Friday`s child.....She ain`t even gonna tray..oh
Friday`s child.....Whom they`ll forget to bury
Friday`s child.....Am I