It's your house and know nothing about Where you relax and putter about Pick up the phone and it won't ring out So take 40 winks on an lumpy couch Yawn hard and pick up the book And it bored you stiff as the pages shook In your red hands and try not to look So recount all of the winks you took Looking down from your high chair You seem high as a weather balloon from up there Falling asleep at the top of the stairs You take 40 winks and dream of anywhere Lying down on the parquet floor You hear two keys in the kitchen door They're home so soon at 9:04 You take 40 winks and a thousand more Wake up at 3 and you're soaking wet But hear Postman Pat on the television set Another day slips through the net So take 40 winks and that's all you get