There’s something so terribly appealing
About the eleventh hour back in the day
When deadline’s seem oodles of time off
And procrastination appears to delay
The inevitable – the getting it done bit
The slog that always occurs
When the time limit gets closer and closer
And the pressure starts getting absurd!
When the stress of the “oh my will I make it”
Starts to raise the heart beat with a jolt
And the hands get all clammy and sweaty
Knowing there’s really no time now to bolt!
And then I believe it seems onerous
That eleventh hour that in brightness of day
Said “I’m miles off – take your time and don’t panic
I’m the eleventh hour and light years away!”