I believe in fires at midnight
when the dogs have all been fed
A golden toddy on the mantle;
a broken gun beneath the bed.
Silken mist outside the window--
Frogs and Newts slip in the dark.
Too much hurry ruins a'body:
I'll sit easy; fan the spark
Kindled by the dying embers of another working day
Go upstairs: take off your make-up--
Fold your clothes neatly away.
Me, I'll sit and write this love song
As I all to seldom do--
Build a little fire this midnight:
It's good to be back home with you.