When the world is too much
And your drive has been driven,
When you’ve tired of the rush
And no more damns can be given,
When your snowman is slush
And Santa’s sleigh has been ridden,
There’s just one place that you stay,
Hidden under the duvet.
And your drive has been driven,
When you’ve tired of the rush
And no more damns can be given,
When your snowman is slush
And Santa’s sleigh has been ridden,
There’s just one place that you stay,
Hidden under the duvet.
Its fabric is warm
And its crevasses dark.
You won’t hear the storm
Nor the song of a lark.
There’s no need to perform,
No feat to bench-mark.
There’s no wrong thing that you say,
Hidden under the duvet.
So grab a torch and a teddy-bear
And a well-thumbed book.
Block the door with a chair,
Take the phone off the hook.
Leave your cares elsewhere,
Thumb your nose, cock a snook.
Draw a veil over to-day
With me under the duvet.