When I can't sleep,
And thoughts are coming and going,
I sit on my bed and count sheep.
The herd jumps over my head and disappears behind my back,
And every sheep that goes by looks just like
The sheep that was there before him.
First sheep and second sheep,
Third sheep and fourth sheep,
Balls of fluff, all alike.
The eighth sheep goes by,
But when the sixteenth sheep comes by
I know that he'll stop and walk around in my room,
and I know that this sheep will stay
and that it has no interest in going along with the herd.
I whisper to him, "Sheep, move. Give me a chance once to
count them all."
But he won't move
And the sixteenth sheep is usually
the sheep that I fall asleep with.
Sweet dreams, a restful, soft night
It's getting late and tomorrow we'll wake up and see
How the day always returns at the end of each nighttime.
Darkness has fallen with might
Only the moon is still shining with its yellow light.
A cricket is chirping its chirp, sings: