  (After a moonlight patrol near the Brickstacks) I hate the Moon, though it makes most people glad, And they giggle and talk of silvery beams—you know! But she says the look of the Moon drives people mad, And that's the thing that always frightens me so. I hate it worst when it's cruel and round and bright, And you can't make out the marks on its stupid face, Except when you shut your eyelashes, and all night The sky looks green, and the world's a horrible place. I like the stars, and especially the Big Bear And the W star, and one like a diamond ring, But I hate the Moon and its horrible stony stare, And I know one day it'll do me some dreadful thing. |
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