This year is not yet over.
It ends on 31 December.
There are more than seven months to go.
And so you say, Oh no, oh no . . .

But it's not bad.
You should be glad.
There is still time.
That's not a crime.

And you will find the meaning of life
When all the world is full and rife
Of great ideas and choices and opportunities.
The year continues in all towns and cities.

The end of May is followed by June.
And time passes, and very soon
It is July, and then August comes.
A result of all your products and sums.

September passes, and then October.
The days move by, gentle and sober.
November arrives and soon passes on.
December sweeps through and ends an eon.

The year will end on this eventful day,
A day that from now is seven months away.
And after that, as the second hand spins,
The old year is over, and the new year begins.