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It’s 8:01
There’s one thing that I really hate
It’s when something is really late
I will admit my nasty trait
Does not one bit make me look great
When not on time, I get irate
My mouth will froth, my hips gyrate
It puts me in a wretched state
So mad that I expectorate
I’ll get all tense and flatulate
And through the roof goes my heart rate
Where is my food? I cannot wait!
They said that they’d be here by eight!