Those roads look lethal in the street lights' glare;
they'll have to watch it 'til the gritter’s been.
It's bitter cold this time of year out there
and it’s a bugger keeping white coats clean.
The bells! It's force of habit, hard to break;
for forty years my clock's gone off at four.
It makes no difference, though, I always wake
at three o'clock, just like I did before.
A mug of tea will warm me up - I'll try
to brew up just the one today. The moon
is bright; I want to tell her - don’t know why
I can’t let go. I hope I'll join her soon..
No milk! They never come before eleven –
I bet they'll all be glad of me in heaven!