White Light Black Light

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Here is an island in Slumber Sea Where the drollest things are done, And we will sail there if the winds are fair Just after the set of the sun. 'Tis the loveliest place in the whole wide world, Or anyway, so it seems, And the folks there play at the end of each day In a curious show called Dreams. We sail right into the evening skies, And the very first thing we know, We are there at the port and read for sport Where the dream folks give their show. And what do you think they did last night When I crossed their harbor bars? They hoisted a plank on a great cloud bank And teetered among the stars. And they sat on the moon and swung their feet Like pendulums to and fro; Down Slumber Sea is the sail for me, And I wish you were ready to go. For the dream folks there on this curious isle Begin their performance at eight. There are no encores, and they close their doors, On everyone who is late. The sun is sinking behind the hills, The seven o'clock bells chime. I know by the chart that we ought to start If we would be there in time. O fair is the trip down Slumber Sea, Set sail and away we go: The anchor is drawn, we are off and gone To the wonderful Dream-town show.

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// posted by Alice @ Monday, August 22, 2005