Morning, morning.
It’s here, no matter what I say.
It won’t listen to me
When I ask for another hour of night.
It doesn’t care if I want more sleep
In fact I think it’s smirking at me.
“Ha ha!” it laughs. “You look funny
with your hair like that!
Get up! Get up!
Go see the birds in the trees
Who aren’t as lazy as you are!
Take a drink of my air
It’ll tickle your toes! Get up!”
I can’t resist its gladness.
Here I go, into the arms of morning.