The midnight bell toils,
the moon’s full as it can be,
and the night is dark.
It is time for bed,
the morning comes far too soon,
and sleep comes creeping.
I want to write songs,
the ones with music you mean?
That’s what my mum asked.
Yes, with music, mum,
that makes it a song to sing,
with a little tune.
The she says to me,
Sarcasm doesn’t suit you,
and then went her way.
Well, that told me eh?
I should know better than that,
at my age as well.
