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 armor, 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