With a star hung high for a rattle
People I was teethed like the
As instruments of battle.
For I was born on Saturday,
A bad time to plant your seed.
The only thing my father said,
When I was born, oh, the rain fell hard
And misery piled high round
The first two words that I ever cried
For I was born on Saturday,
a bad time to plant your seed
And the only thing my mama said,
For I'm the brother to the Black Raccoon
And the kin to all things wild
And the only thing God said to me,
Boy, your Saturday is child
For some were teased on a silver spoon
With a star hung high for a rattle
As instruments of battle.
For I was born on Saturday
A bad time to plant your seed
And the only thing that they said to me