Father Time is calling,
He is whispering to me.
The years go by so quickly,
They run away, you see.
The days seem to run together,
The weeks go swiftly too.
The months jump off the calendar,
The yearly taxes due.
Father Time is calling,
He makes the years go fast.
I wish he’d slow down a little,
And make the summers last.
I wish he’d make the winters,
Fly right by my head.
I love the summer afternoons,
It’s winter that I dread.