RASCHEN

​

An elderly chap

A professor sorts

A kilted magpie man

Who had refused to wear shorts

Partial to the comfort of a goose downie bed

To lay down the weight of his weary little head

So when the lights go out and Beastie falls silent

Deep steady breathing and snoring so violent

Those creaks in the night you thought were the house

That knocking you'd pondered a wee doormouse

Just Raschen and his walking stick

Closer and closer, this is no trick

Until you find him curled up on your bed

Wee man asleep under the bedspread

Now the first light breaks

Little Raschen awakes

And scamper he will

To his own chenille

Meet Raschen