The Southern Moon

The southern moon was glancing down
and the watchman was reclining
on his rush-strewn bed of leaves

A horse flew out, its rider gowned
and his armour it was shining
through his pale embroidered sleeves

The watchman twisted as he dozed
I could hear his keys a-jangle
in his pocket, held by string

He was handsome in repose
illumined by his candles
like a statue of a king

The night, my dear, was cool and clear
I lay awake, too wide awake to sleep

The fall of music on the breeze
a faint and chimy wind hymn
a wild aeolian spell

that slipped and shimmered through the trees
sometimes shrinking to a minim
at others bold as bells

The night, my child, was old and wild
I lay awake, too wide awake to sleep

The southern moon fell from the sky
the candles sparked and guttered
the scene grew cold and black

The watchman snored a lullaby
then in his sleep he muttered
""Daisy Buchan, please come back""

The night, Bo Peep, was long and deep
I lay awake, too wide awake to sleep