BOYS AND GIRLS

Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty

A hundred years ago,

All through the night with lantern bright

The Watch trudged to and fro,

And little boys tucked snug abed

Would wake from dreams to hear -

‘ Two o’ the morning by the clock,

And the stars a-shining clear!’

Or, when across the chimney-tops

Screamed shrill a North-East gale,

A faint and shaken voice would shout,

‘ Three! And a storm of hail!’