The bedtime snack
A hundred white sheep jump you to sleep
But I still see a lively wink prancing across your little face
All lost in thoughts of ice cream and cotton candy,
Turning somersaults and chasing through the garden
Playing tricks without a break, discovering your whole world.
But now close your eyes, for only then will you see
How the bedtime sweet found his name.
A hundred white sheep and a little goat
With soft fur of black curls
Hugo it was called, but just as well known
as a rascal, naughty boy, good-for-nothing and urchin, doesn't look like an angel either.
The little horns perky forward, nimble the lamb's tail, bright ears' n,
A googly belly and short legs and itty-bitty are his fast hooves.
In short, you do not have to call Hugo long, he can only cheerfully do antics, jokes and teasing.
There are stories about this sheep
This is the one I want to tell you:
On a night like velvet and silk, summer sky in the most beautiful evening dress
with sparkling stars and moonlight covered
Then between heaven and earth the wool-white flock of sheep gathered on cloud number nine.
With a willow lush green, where clover and buttercups blossom
Around it a little fence, inside stands a plum tree right next to a little brook
Over it all the little sheep jump, you by and by into your dreams.
But now every sheep wanted to be the first in that warm summer night
to be the first before the others,
with a gentle jumping to bring the children large and small the deepest sleep.
But order must also be up here, that saw all finally and put themselves dutifully in the back of the line
Except for Hugo, who can't let it go
As always, he danced out of line, no bleating, no shouting could stop him.
He wanted to be on the first place, on the plum tree with one leap
from there in front of the others.
Now, however, the plum tree stands very close to that fence
left behind on the cloud border
With too much momentum Hugo jumped up, neither leaf nor branch stopped him
Two plums on his horns, two behind his ears
Already he had lost the cloud floor under him.
On a leaf from a plum tree Hugo sailed into a child's dream
With a feather-light landing on his pillow soft as absorbent cotton
He brought four juicy, summer-sweet plums into the child's dream.
Hugo was soon known
His name sounded in town and country
A sweet hop on the pillow is called since then like-
You'll know it now:
Since Hugo's jump with the four plums, such a thing is called a bedtime snack
How did Hugo find his way from this pillow back to his cloud?
You are certainly curious about that,
But that's another story, which I'll tell you about another time.
A hundred white sheep and a little goat
With soft fur of black curls
They all hop you to sleep
Have a good night full of beautiful dreams
With soft and with sweet
And tomorrow morning you'll wake up
By a tickle-tickle-crawl on your little feet
Your laughter, your thirst for discovery, your carefree steps and all your idiosyncrasies.
Already today the new day can't wait for you.