Tick-tock, tick-tock, goes the White Rabbit’s watch,
The starry night will talk as the door goes
Knock-knock-knock like the winding clock on scotch,
Has the Queen lost her mock-mock-mock woes?
She asks you delicately what you mean,
We’ll continue to run from this last dream.
Dare escape if you meet the guillotine,
So long if we meet something so unclean.
How many cups of tea are left but for you,
Feel my heartbeat, butterflies in the attic
You mustn’t whisper yet your adieu.
Goodbyes so shallow pressed as sporadic.
Little Alice fell down another hole—
Bumped her pretty head, and broke her poor soul.