The Plan
There is a plan. There are standards,
All with reasons we strive to understand
And to carry out gracefully,
Even when we know we will fail
To do all that is required.
That's why we were hired.
Yes, and we do it daily; even gaily, when we can.
We know we can't take it so damn serious,
And we'd go crazy if we did,
So we kid around and play,
And we realize it's not in our hands anyway.
It's not our style to worry,
Though there's a lot to worry about.
Sometimes, we hurry, hurry, hurry
When we need to figure it out.
But it's best to zip along; eyes open,
Expecting anyway, that, fast or slow,
We're going to get it wrong -
To those supposed to know!
No one can keep in check
The sheer number of little tasks,
The unpredictability of the flow,
And all that will be asked.
Even so, we do prevail.
Though sad, or tired,
We still get through it;
Maybe in a round-about way,
But we do it,
Just like we've done the same sort of thing before.
Ninety-nine percent of the time!
Anyway, no one's keeping score!
Nothing goes exactly according to plan,
But we know the dark tunnel we're traveling through,
And we do the best we can.
Then again, if things get too askew, we will take a stand!
That, too, is what's demanded.
