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            Why should someone take such care
            In changing sad old me
            You'd think He had enough on His plate
            Without the strain I be
            For it has not been easy
            His work has been cut out
            It's been a lot like roping a steer
            Who loves to scream and shout
            But maybe He is winning
            I'm coming round, at last
            By heeding things He tells me
            My stubbornness outclassed
            You have to reach a plateau
            From which you can't escape
            Before you finally give in
            My vine has grown a grape.