Twas night when all was still,
Appeared an old man who looked quite ill,
His eyes were dull, his face smoky gray,
His anguished look, I began to pray.
Why is he so high in the air?
He looks as though he doesn’t give a care,
Oh! It’s my old uncle on the windowsill,
My old uncle! Uncle Bill.
The frightful look that he gave me,
Made me want to climb a tree,
As I climbed, he began to gain
I think that maybe he was insane.