Digging His Own Grave Ghi chép cốt truyện · Springlands

I see him when I wake

The tip of his little, devilish blue hat

And what a stupid hat it is

So pointy, and silly, and filled with hatred

I see him when I close my eyes

The wicked smile, the shaking shovel in his tiny, wrinkled hands

I see him dig, dig, dig in the fields

He wants to push me in

He wants to bury me under rocks and soil

I won't let him win, that fiend. That grave he digs in my smallest field will be his own tomb! And then when he is gone, I can finally sleep again, sleep tight, so tight, and no one will call me loopy no more