You’ll be late for your own funeral
My mum would often say
Chivvying me to get a move on
Early in the day

Last one in the schoolyard
To heed the teachers call
Last one in assembly
As we shuffled in the hall

Last one on parade
Which caused no end of trouble
The sergeant used some obscene words
And it was Jankers at the double

Couldn’t keep a girlfriend
It seemed to be my fate
To always fail to be on time
When arriving for a date

Your wise words I remember mum
Once again l’m running late
I’m well past three score years and ten
And made the undertakers wait

So when I finally pop my clogs
And come to the end of my days
They’ll refer to me as the late Mr. White -
And be right, in oh so many ways