The evening is coming,
The sun sinks to rest,
The rooks are all flying
Straight home to their nest;
"Caw, caw," says the rook
As he flies overhead,
"It's time little people
Were going to bed."

The flowers are all closing,
The daisy's asleep,
The primrose is buried
In slumber so deep;
And closed for the night
Are the roses so 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 day's work is over,
Their nestlings are fed,
"It's time little people
Were going to bed."

Good-night, little people,
Good-night, little ones,
Sweet dreams to your eyelids
Till morning light dawns.
The evening has come,
There's no more to be said,
"It's time little people
Were going to bed."