Fire at Midnight

I believe in fires at midnight
when the dogs have all been fed.
A golden toddy on the mantle;
a broken gun beneath the bed.
Silken must outside the window -
Frogs and newts slip in the dark.
Too much hurry ruins a'body:
I'LL sit easy; fan the spark.

Kidness by the dying embers of
another working day.
Go upstairs; take off your make-up -
Fold your clothes nearly away.
Me, I'll sit and wright this love song
As I all too seldom do -
Build a little fire this midnight:
It's good to be back home with you.