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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? | 
