Monday

[Verse 1] [Jaunty Lute Strum] Hark, good gentles, gather near, put down your ale and bread! I'll sing the tale of Monday's name, a word you all do dread. Before your week had any shape, before the days had names, The Babylonians looked above and played their starry games! [Verse 2] They watched the moon wax full and fade, and split her cycle clean, To seven days they carved the weeks, the finest ever seen! Five days for wandering stars above, and one day for the sun, And one for Lady Moon herself, and thus the week was spun! [Verse 3] Now Romans stole this clever scheme, as Romans often do, [Spoken aside] And named each day for gods on high, a planetary crew. Dies Lunae! Cried the Roman tongue, the Moon Day, bright and fair, For Luna rode in silver light with moonbeams in her hair! [Verse 4] [Tempo shifts, more dramatic] But further north, in frozen lands where Viking longships creep, A different tale was told of moons, by folk who shunned their sleep. A giant called Mundilfari had children, boy and maid, So beautiful, so radiant, the stars themselves looked frayed! [Verse 5] He named his daughter Sól, the Sun! His son, he called him Máni! The Moon itself seemed dull compared, their beauty seen by many. But naming children after stars? The gods cried out in rage! "Such arrogance demands a price!" And so they set the stage. [Chuckle] [Verse 6] [Tempo quickens] They seized fair Sól and Máni both, and harnessed them to ride, In chariots across the sky, with nowhere left to hide! Now Sól must drag the blazing sun from dawn to dusk each day, And Máni pulls the moon by night along the silver way! [Verse 7] But worse than hauling heavenly stones through endless sky and cold, Two wolves were set upon their trail, ferocious, dark, and bold! Sköll the Mocker chased the sun with jaws spread open wide, While Hati, wolf of bitter Hate, kept snapping at Moon's ride! [Verse 8] [Slower, mysterious] And Máni on his endless flight scooped up two children small, Young Bil and Hjúki, pails in hand, who'd wandered from their hall. They'd come from fetching water when the Moon God swept them high, Now waxing, waning, round they go, like pails against the sky! [Verse 9] [Spoken knowingly] Now here's a twist to curl your beard, you'll know this rhyme, I'll bet, Those children with their pails of water, we've not forgotten yet! Jack and Jill went up a hill? That's Hjúki, Bil, and Moon! A Norse myth dressed in nursery clothes, and hummed as children's tune! [Wink] [Verse 10] [Tempo returns, jaunty] The dwarves all called him Shiner bright, the elves, Year Counter true, In Hel he's called the Whirling Wheel, the giants, Hastener who Flies ever onward, never rests, until the Ragnarök, When Hati's jaws at last snap shut, and darkness eats the clock! [Verse 11] So Mōnandæg the Saxons wrote, the Moon's own blessed day, From Babylon to Viking shores, it traveled all this way. The root means measure, mark the time, from moon to month we count, And every Monday morning's groan springs from a lunar fount! [Verse 12] [Final Lute Flourish] So curse not Monday, friends of mine, but raise a cup to Máni! A boy too beautiful for earth, his fate a bit uncanny. Still racing wolves across the dark, still pulling silver light, He gives you Mondays, one by one, born from eternal flight! [Short pause] Now spare a coin, my throat grows hoarse, this moon lore makes one dry, And thank the gods it's not YOUR job to drag the moon through sky! [Chuckle]