He’ll find a way over, in spite of it all.
On the glass of the window his pictures you’ll see,
A grand exhibition (admission is free);
He works hard at night
While the stars glitter bright;
But when the sun rises he keeps out of sight.
He’ll sketch you a snow-covered mountain or tree;
A torrent all frozen, a ship out at sea.
He draws very fast,
But his work does not last: