There’s a loving letter I mean to send
There’s a visit I mean to pay
There’s a careless habit I hope to mend,
When I get the time someday.

There’s a dusty bible I mean to read
There’s an hour I’ll keep to pray
I’ll turn each dream to a golden deed,
When I get the time someday.

I’ll carry flowers to the sick and the sad
I’ll seek for those who stray
You can trace my steps by hearts made glad,
When I get the time someday.

So somebody thought, so somebody said,
But wasn’t it just a crime?
Too busy with less important things
They never did get the time.

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