Since it can never be too late
To change your life, or else renew it,
Let the unpleasant process wait,
Until you are compelled to do it.
The State provides (and gratis too)
Establishments for such as you.
Remember this, and pluck up heart,
That, be you publican or parson,
Your ev'ry art must have a start,
From petty larceny to arson;
And even in the burglar's trade,
The cracksman is not born, but made.
So, if in your career of crime,
You fail to carry out some 'coup,'
Then try again a second time,
And yet again, until you do;
And don't despair, or fear the worst,
Because you get found out at first.
Perhaps the battle will not go,
On all occasions, to the strongest;
You may be fairly certain tho'
That He Laughs Last who Laughs the Longest.
So keep a good reserve of laughter,
Which may be found of use hereafter.
Believe me that, howe'er well meant,
A good resolve is always brief;
Don't let your precious hours be spent
In turning over a new leaf.
Such leaves, like Nature's, soon decay,
And then are only in the way.
The Road to—well, a certain spot
(A road of very fair dimensions),
Has, so the proverb tells us, got
A parquet-floor of Good Intentions.
Take care, in your desire to please,
You do not add a brick to these.
For there may come a moment when
You shall be mended, willy-nilly,
With many more misguided men,
Whose skill is undermined with skilly.
Till then procrastinate, my friend;
'It Never is Too Late to Mend!'
Exasperated Spouse: (after following one of our kitties around the house with her food for the fifth time today) “I wonder if coroners or prosecutors have a category for ‘death by cat’?” Me: “yes. It’s called Feliny murder.”