No longer baking in the suns burning rays,

The grass is crying, thankful for night.

Beaten and downtrodden by children at play,

The coming of evening is a much welcome sight .

The grass is crying, thankful for night.

A time to refresh and return, moistened with dew,

The coming of evening is a much welcome sight,

in order to give it a time to renew.

A time to refresh and return, moistened with dew,

The children sleep well in their warm  little beds.

Their minds are crammed with visions of Crusoe and crew.

They dream of the adventures that still lay ahead.

The children sleep well In their snug little bed.

The grass is sighing, thankful for night.

No fear of the adventures that still lay ahead,

And no longer baking in the suns burning rays.