40 Winks
Tim Freeman
It's your house and know nothing about
Where you relax and putter about
Pick up the phone and it won't ring out
So take 40 winks on an lumpy couch
Yawn hard and pick up the book
And it bored you stiff as the pages shook
In your red hands and try not to look
So recount all of the winks you took
Looking down from your high chair
You seem high as a weather balloon from up there
Falling asleep at the top of the stairs
You take 40 winks and dream of anywhere
Lying down on the parquet floor
You hear two keys in the kitchen door
They're home so soon at 9:04
You take 40 winks and a thousand more
Wake up at 3 and you're soaking wet
But hear Postman Pat on the television set
Another day slips through the net
So take 40 winks and that's all you get