I know some lonely houses off the road

A robber d like the look of, --

Wooden barred,

And windows hanging low,

Inviting to

A portico,

Where two could creep:

One hand the tools,

The other peep

To make sure alls asleep.

Old-fashioned eyes,

Not easy to surprise!

How orderly the kitchen d look by night,

With just a clock, --

But they could gag the tick,

And mice won

And so the walls dont tell,

None will.

A pair of spectacles ajar just stir --

An almanacs aware.

Was it the mat winked,

Or a nervous star?

The moon slides down the stair

To see whos there.

Theres plunder, -- where?

Tankard, or spoon,

Earring, or stone,

A watch, some ancient brooch

To match the grandmamma,

Staid sleeping there.

Day rattles, too,

Stealth

The sun has got as far

As the third sycamore.

Screams chanticleer,

Whos there?

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