A man has (F)dreams of walk ing with (C)gi ants,

to carve his niche in the ed i fice of (F)time.

Be fore the mor tar of his zeal has the (Bb)chance to con (Bbm)geal, the cup is (F)dashed from his lips, the flame is (Bbm)snuffed a born ing, he’s brought to (F)rack and ru in (C7)in his (F)prime.

My world was (F)calm, well or dered, ex (C)em plar y,

then came this per son with cha os in her (F)wake.

And now my life’s am bi tions (F7)go with (Bb)one fell (Bdim)blow.

It’s (F)quite a bit ter (C7)pill to (F)take.

A (C)spoon ful of sug ar, that is all it takes.

It (C)chang es bread and wa ter in to tea and cakes.

A (Eb)spoon ful of sug ar goes a (Bb7)long, long way, so (F7)’ave your self a ’ealth y ’elp ing ev ’ry (C7)day.

you’ve got to (F)grind, grind, grind at that (C7)grind stone,

though child ’ood slips like sand through a (F)sieve.

And all too soon they’ve up and grown, and (Bb)then they’ve (Bbm)flown, and (F)it’s too late for (C7)you to (F)give

(Fm)just that (C7)spoon ful of sug ar to ’elp the (F)med i cine go down, the (C7)med i cine go down,

(F)med i cine go down.