The hourly chime has ceased its ring, The Prismatic Sun has set. Now come the dreams that evening brings, Lest we should all forget. Drink your milk... it’s warm and spiced with care. One for the trunk, and one for the wing, Listen to the song the night-birds sing. Nutmeg and cinnamon, a scent so deep, Tuck in the corners... it’s time for sleep. Another traveler, pink and small, Is weary from the day. With a winged piglet, best of all, To keep the ghosts away. Close your eyes... the duvet is a cloud. One for the trunk, and one for the wing, Listen to the song the night-birds sing. Nutmeg and cinnamon, a scent so deep, Tuck in the corners... it’s time for sleep. "Right then... Toes in, trunks tucked... No more trumpeting about 'imagine' or 'acid rain.' That’s quite enough for one day... A kiss on the forehead for you, and a scratch behind the ears for the little porker with wings. There we are... Splendid, now, drift off... dream about the knitted moon..." The circus tent is folded neat, The stars are needles bright. The mission now is quite complete, Beneath the purple light. Sleep well, my friends... the morning waits for none. Goodnight...
