I see him when I wake The tip of his little, devilish blue hat And what a stupid hat it is So pointy, and silly, and filled with hatred I see him when I close my eyes The wicked smile, the shaking shovel in his tiny, wrinkled hands I see him dig, dig, dig in the fields He wants to push me in He wants to bury me under rocks and soil I won't let him win, that fiend. That grave he digs in the corner of my fields will be his own tomb! And then when he is gone, I can finally sleep again, sleep tight, so tight, and no one will call me loopy no more