Work Text:
Oh little astrxx, don't you threat. Papa's gonna get you a little blan-ket.
To keep you happy, to bring you home. Papa will go get you a dinner bone.
To whisper sweetly, these thoughts so kind. Blah blah blah blah. In my mind.
Oh, sweet summer child. Why won't return? Do you not hear how much I yearn. For you to come home. hhhhh
Lalalala. Mimimimi. Honk shoo hink shoo. Sleepytime for thee.
-John Poetry