When you're tiny and big people say you must go to bed,
It's hard.
I was tiny too,
And so were your great-great-grandparents.
When this poem first came to help little tiny children get sleepy,
Whenever you hear the word tiny people,
I want you to stretch your arms and take a big yawn in and let it out.
And maybe by the end of the song you'll be sleepy.
For when we're sleepy and we rest,
Tiny bodies grow into big bodies.
So here's a poem for all the tiny people going to bed with me right now.
The evening is coming.
The sun sinks to rest.
The rooks are all flying straight home to their nest.
Caw,
Says the rook as he flies overhead.
It's time little people were going to bed.
The flowers are closing.
The daisies sleep.
The primrose is buried in slumber so deep.
Shut up for the night,
Is the pimpernel red.
It's time little people were going to bed.
The butterfly,
Drowsy,
Has folded its wings.
The bees are returning.
No more,
The bird sings.
Their labor is over.
Their nestlings are fed.
It's time little people were going to bed.
Here comes the pony.
His work is all done.
Down through the meadow he takes a good run.
Up goes his heels and down goes his head.
It's time little people were going to bed.
Good night little people.
Good night and good night.
Sweet dreams to your eyelids till dawning of light.
The evening has come.
There's no more to be said.
It's time little people were going to bed.
Good night.
What's that?
You want to hear one more?
How about if we do it even slower now?
And you can see the pictures in your mind.
How does that sound to you?
Get ready,
Get set,
And go.
The evening is coming.
The sun sinks to rest.
The rooks are all flying straight home to their nest.
Caw,
Says the rook as he flies overhead.
It's time little people were going to bed.
The flowers are closing.
The daisy's asleep and the primrose is buried in slumber.
So deep.
Shut up for the night,
Is the pimpernel red.
It's time little people were going to bed.
The butterfly drowsy has folded its wings.
The bees are returning.
No more the bird-sing.
Their labor is over.
Their nestlings are fed.
It's time little people were going to bed.
And here comes the pony.
His work is all done.
Down through the meadow he takes a good run.
Up goes his heels and down goes his head.
It's time little people were going to bed.
Good night little people.
Good night and good night.
Sweet dreams to your eyelids till dawning of light.
The evening has come.
There's no more to be said.
It's time little people were going.
