when I expect you least,
There you are upon my head,
forcing me from my warm bed.
these grey hours I truely rue
no one to talk with, nothing to do
but drift in house quiet and chilly,
but drift about willy-nilly
and write silly rhymes upon my blog,
what do you expect, my heads a-fog!
I woke at two-thirty-three
Please don't demand good poetry
But wish me that I'll soon be sleeping
and sweet dreams I'll be dreaming
and will not wake again till dawn breaks through,
and paints the skies a a warm blue.
Goodnight sweet readers, and sleep well,
till wakened by the morning bell.
Goodnight sweet readers, and adieu
Goodnight, goodnight, to all of you.