Mrs. MacQueen

Lyrics

With glass like a bull's-eye And shutters of green Down on the cobbles Lives Mrs. MacQueen At six she rises; At nine you see Her candle shine out In the linden tree: And at half-past nine Not a sound is nigh But the bright moon's creeping Across the sky; Or a far dog baying; Or a twittering bird In its drowsy nest In the darkness stirred; Or like the roar Of a distant sea A long-drawn S-s-sh In the linden tree