The clock has struck eleven,
The birds have fluttered home
The night is come
To bed I go.
The last pee 'fore sleep,
Turning off the telly.
Lights - one, two, three - they're all switched off.
There, I slipped and felly.
My glasses fly
Into an abysmal black
But lo, colours return
To my view, back.
Electric pipes and dots askew
A scary face, a hungry cat,
The outline of a frilly bat.
I scrounge around
For my glasses. Dear me!,
They've been eaten
By yonder busybee.
Stuck in its throat:
My glasses, methinks,
For it's buzzing echoes
Shabbily through chinks.
I freeze, horrified,
Curled up silent-still,
Hoping I can make it go 'way,
By my sheer will.
But the colours form a mocking dance
The stripes and flecks swish and prance
Leaving mine eyes in a dizzy-do trance
Hypnotising; survival hath no chance.
Lo and behold, there is a song!
The colours ask me to sing along.
"We do not come out in the day,
Night-time is our time to play.
We like to shine and bounce about
There's no way to throw us out!
We can be the best-ever dream
Or the Nightmare Great of all you've seen.
So open your eyes and join the tide
And you'll have a most unforgettable ride."
The murky rhythm casts a spell,
And I begin to shake abnormally well
I sing along their chant of the night
And do away with my night-time fright!