Oh look there's something in the sky,
A creature floating, way up high,
It is not merely sitting there,
But falling slowly through the air.
The sky grew pink and gold, it's knees,
Were level with the evening trees,
Morose, inflexible aloof,
It hovered just above the roof.
The weeks went by, it made it's way,
A little lower, every day,
It settled further in the night,
And gave the maid an awful fright.
It did not linger after all
Forever in the upstairs hall,
It found the drawing room in turn
And slipped inside a chinese urn.
It went right down and came to rest
On great-grand-uncle Ogdreds chest
It's gone beneath the cellar floor,
We shall not see it any more.