When you waken with a shudder in the middle of the night And the fear is like a spider on your skin, Then the faces at the window, ghastly-gleaming grisly white, Are the burglars who are trying to come in. And the burglars in the shadows of the laurels in the park, With their sacks marked SWAG, half-hidden in the leaves, They are waiting for the children, they are waiting in the dark, For the darkness is the proper place for thieves. Burglars’ eyes behind their burglars’ masks are glittering and clear. They are thinking of the crunching of the…