Lazy Bones

My wife tells me I’m lazy,
but that’s not really true.
It’s just that I don’t do some things
the way she wants me to.

I like to do things my way.
I like to set the pace.
Hey, everything can wait a bit.
It’s not like it’s a race.

Don’t want to strain a muscle.
I’m delicate, you know.
I’m not the man I used to be.
No wish can make it so.

Oh, I will take care of it.
I just can’t tell you when.
I keep a list of all the chores
I’ll get to when I can.

And my wife keeps her own list,
much longer than my own.
She waves that list in front of me
while I just duck and moan.

I think she’s out to kill me.
Yeah, that must be her plan.
She thinks if she gets rid of me
she’ll find a better man.

Oh, wait, I hear her coming.
I’d better move my butt.
This time she might be very mad.
I feel it in my gut.

Hey, maybe I’ll avoid her
and find a place to hide.
I’d really rather take a nap
and let those work chores slide.

But no, darn it, she’s found me.
She’s knows me well by now.
I’ll have to bite the bullet hard
and get through this somehow.