By day the bat is cousin to the mouse
He likes the attic of an ageing house
His fingers make a hat about is head
He loops in crazy figures half the night
But When he brushes up against a screen
We are afraid of what our eyes have seen:
For something is amiss or out of place
When mice with wings can wear a human face
He likes the attic of an ageing house
His fingers make a hat about is head
He loops in crazy figures half the night
But When he brushes up against a screen
We are afraid of what our eyes have seen:
For something is amiss or out of place
When mice with wings can wear a human face
