I would rather sing all day than toil every min;

Dance and prance and talk and laugh

And do so little work;

That I would frustrate myself and everybody who sees me

Of course, I have to toil;

For I would get so terribly bored

That I would play a hundred pranks;

On people who do not deserve it

But here’s the trouble, I say

Whenever I have too much fun for hours in a row;

I think to finish it quickly and get to work

As soon as possible

But whenever I do get to work for hours in a row;

And muddle my brain

And turn my limbs to wood –yes wood–

I feel that I cannot possibly work one minute more

One Second, One millisecond, One picosecond

No, not one more!