Nog

At night, when all the house is dark,
And crickets in the bushes have begun to play,
And all the inhabitants are tucked in their beds—
That is when Nog begins his day.

He sure to hang cobwebs in each nook and cranny,
And Nog helps the ivy to creep down the brick wall.
He’s sprinkled the dust on each shelf and table.
And dirtying the dishes is no trouble at all.

Sometimes you’ll hear him creak through the hall,
But remember, that is no cause for distress.
For of course it is Nog, ensuring each thing in the space
Remains out of place, in pure and wonderful, perfect mess.