Tom Waits

Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of rye
Hush-a-bye my baby, no need to be crying
You can burn the midnight oil with me as long as you will
Stare out at the moon upon the windowsill and dream

Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye
Hush-a-bye my baby, no need to be crying
There's dew drops on the windowsill, and gumdrops in your head
You're slipping into dreamland, you're nodding your head
So dream

Dream of West Virginia, or of the British Isles
'Cause when you are dreaming, you see for miles and miles
When you are much older, remember when we sat
At midnight on the windowsill, and had this little chat
And dream

Come on and dream
Come on and dream
And dream
And dream
Come on and dream