Hist! Hark! |●|
The Watch-dogs bark.
The Fire is covered.
The Bricks grow cold;
In the warmest Corner’s
The brown Kobold. |☽|
He sits quite still,
And his Eyes are bright.
The Clock strikes twelve;
’Tis the dead of Night.
Snuggle down closer |♓︎ Look out for frost.|
Into your Bed,
And pull the Coverlets
Over your Head.