I've tried to talk to the dustman,
But his voice is fearfully hoarse;
And once I put a penny in the bin—
It was taken out of course.
But for all the good it did my dreams,
I need not have put it in;
Perhaps he thought that the penny had slipped
By accident into the bin.
It seems absurd in this civilised age[G]
That our dreams should still be bad;
If the dustman is responsible
I think he must be mad.
It's horrid enough to lie awake,
And count the knobs on the bed;
But it's horrider far to go to sleep,
In fact I'd sooner be dead.
I expect that then if one had bad dreams
And woke up in a fright,
There would be an angel somewhere about
To strike a cheerful light.
And your governess is not always glad,
If you wake her up to say
That a witch has been chasing you down a street
Where the people have gone away.
[G] Father said this about something.
