What is that sound on the ground, oh Mama?
What is that sound on the breeze?
What is that sound crying outside my window
Weeping through stark, barren trees?
What is that sound underneath my bed, Mama
Tiptoeing over the floor
What is that sound on the roof, oh Mama
And knocking on our back door?
What is the sound on the ground, dear Sonny?
What is the sound on the breeze?
What is the sound that you hear, dear Sonny
Weeping through winter’s bare trees?
I’ve heard the sound that you hear, dear Sonny
I’ve heard its soft, muffled rhyme
It’s nothing at all to fear, precious honey
It is simply the tiptoe of time
© Janet Martin~