• Mr. Sandman called me to slumber,
    his arms out stretched with glittery
    dust. In that little door he stood.

    Yet, I protest. I cannot rest.
    Though my body tired with
    these aching bones and eye
    lids drooped weary.

    He pressed his finger to his lips.
    And he said, now my child its time
    for rest. Don't protest. You need
    your rest. Than there came
    the glittery dust. What a mess.

    Though my body still protest. Why my
    child won't you rest? Ask the sandman
    in distress. You need your rest.

    At that I hissed. This glittery dust. What a mess,
    you hit and missed. You hit the floor, not at the door,
    but where I rest.

    With that he hissed and went out
    the door. And with that exit and galore,
    I began to snore.