Countee Cullen - Saturday's Child lyrics

Some are teethed on a silver spoon, With the stars strung for a rattle; I cut my teeth as the black racoon-- For implements of battle. Some are swaddled in silk and down, And heralded by a star; They swathed my limbs in a sackcloth gown On a night that was black as tar. For some, godfather and goddame The opulent fairies be; Dame Poverty gave me my name, And Pain godfathered me. For I was born on Saturday-- "Bad time for planting a seed," Was all my father had to say, And, "One mouth more to feed." d**h cut the strings that gave me life, And handed me to Sorrow, The only kind of middle wife My folks could beg or borrow.