Time means nothing to you; I wait and then,
You’re late again. Eight o’clock, nine o’clock, quarter to ten.
Why should I linger everytime you snap your finger,
Why can’t you hasten when you see the time’s a-wastin’?
You’re a slowpoke, dear.
Why should I keep trying to change you; it’s not the thing to do.
I guess I’ll have to learn to be a slowpoke too.