Midnight Thursday

White moon wind wringing the silver tips of trees
Trembling uncontrollably what are you saying to me
This anticipating spring evening promising morning
Of strewn blossoms on my quiet Camden street,
The girl I have arranged to meet.

You cannot possibly be warning
I'll take it like her you love dancing
And have planned this big production 
For my own especial enjoyment
At this exact moment,
And go to bed content.