Moonlight, Memories, and Midnight Mischief
A Collection of Rhymes for Big and Little Hearts
About the Collection
Step inside a world where bedtime is anything but quiet, memories span generations, and dreams take flight across the night sky!
This delightful trilogy of poems captures the hilarious, heartwarming, and magical moments that weave a family together.
Roll Me Over: A lively, laugh-out-loud look at the 3:00 AM "Baby’s awake" every parent knows too well—complete with pillow trampolines, ninja kicks, and relentless toddler energy.
When Grandad Was a Boy: A gentle, nostalgic journey comparing the simple joys of yesteryear with the fast-paced modern world, reminding us that no matter how much times change, love remains exactly the same.
An Angel in My Bed: A whimsical dreamtime adventure soaring over rooftops and dancing on clouds, right up until the chaotic, clattering alarm of the morning rush! Bursting with rhythm, humor, and tender truths, this collection is a celebration of childhood in all its chaotic, beautiful wonder—perfect for sharing together at bedtime (or anytime!).
Roll Me Over
The room is dark, the clock says three,
Come and have time with me!
Tiptoe softly to the floor,
Quietly open the bedroom door.
Creep up close and squeeze your nose,
Wiggle-waggle with my toes!
Roll me over,
Tickle my tum,
Pat my little bum!
Dummy’s missing, bear’s not near,
I pull the duvet over here.
I climb aboard Daddy’s sleepy head—
There’s lots of room inside your bed!
I want some milk, I want to play,
Mummy, the party can’t wait for day!
Roll me over,
Tickle my tum,
Pat my little bum!
Bounce and boing like a kangaroo,
Pillows make a trampoline too!
Whisper-shout, “Let’s sing a song!”
Daddy’s chest becomes my drum all night long.
Tap-tap-tap goes my happy beat,
Pitter-patter little feet!
Roll me over,
Tickle my tum,
Pat my little bum!
Then I spot the glowing phone,
“Cocomelon!” in a sleepy tone.
I snuggle in between you two,
With ninja kicks and flying shoes!
“One more story? One more treat?”
This three o’clock party is hard to beat!
Roll me over,
Tickle my tum,
Pat my little bum!
When Grandad Was a Boy
When Grandad was a boy—oh, what a joy!
A stick and a spinning top, his favourite toy.
No flashing screens, no batteries to deploy,
Just endless adventures for every girl and boy.
When Grandad was a boy, life seemed to flow
At a gentler pace than youngsters ever know.
Milk came by horse cart, the postman once a week,
Neighbours stopped for chats and always had time to speak.
When Grandad was a boy, school was plain and neat,
Wooden desks in tidy rows, polished by countless feet.
No gadgets lined the shelves to do the thinking for you—
You learnt to work things out and see a problem through.
When Grandad was a boy, he didn’t need much:
Muddy boots, a jam sandwich, and a friendly touch.
Jumpers knitted by Auntie, socks darned with care,
Hand-me-down trousers and wind in his hair.
When Grandad was a boy, he’d play until dark—
Football in the street or a game in the park.
Tree-climbing, den-building, marbles in the dust,
Friendships made with laughter, honesty and trust.
No texts to arrange it, no screens in between—
Just a knock at the door and a shout, “Is Tom home?”
When Grandad was a boy, dinner filled the room:
Shepherd’s pie and apple tart, fresh from the oven’s bloom.
Now supper’s often ordered and left at the gate,
Eaten in a hurry because everyone’s late.
When Grandad was a boy—oh, what a joy!
A stick and a spinning top, his favourite toy.
The world’s moved on—that’s simply how things grow,
With wonders we never imagined long ago.
Yet if you ask old Grandad what he treasures most today,
It isn’t all the gadgets that have come along the way.
It’s laughter shared with family, little hands held tight,
Stories read at bedtime and a cuddle every night.
For love has never changed at all, whatever years employ…
And that’s the finest lesson from when Grandad was a boy.
An Angel in My Bed
Round and round, and round it goes —
where it stops, nobody knows.
Snuggled safe and warm in bed,
an Angel smiled and stroked my head.
Round and round, and round it goes —
she took my hand on silver air.
Over rooftops, stars, and streams
we floated gently through my dreams.
Round and round, and round it goes —
we danced upon a moonlit cloud,
chased the comets, caught the breeze,
and laughed among the whispering trees.
Round and round, and round it goes —
a little mischief always shows:
my quilt now bears a secret stain
from joy that spilled across the night again.
Round and round, and round it goes —
some dreams fade with morning’s glow,
but this one lingers in my heart,
too precious ever to let go.
Round and round, and round it goes —
then—CRASH! WALLOP! Mum called loud:
“Up you get! You’ll miss the bus!
No more dreaming—come on, fuss!”
Round and round, and round it ends,
morning comes, the magic bends.
Yet every night, when stars are spread,
I hope my Angel finds my bed.