I slept in a bed That was a hundred years old In a room That was under the eaves And a tree grew so tall On that side of the house I could see the moon thru the leaves The crickets sang in voices so loud And a train whistled shrill thru the town As I slept in the bed That was a hundred years old Under a blanket of cuddly down White lace at the windows Rag rugs on the floor A quilt of a wonderful weave And I sighed with delight Getting ready for night In my room That was under the eaves. © By susi Taylor (Texaswishr@aol.com)