"Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!
How I wonder what you're at!
Up above the world you fly,
Like a tea tray in the sky.
You are oh-so very free.
You must be happy indeed.
I wonder how you'd be feeling
If someone came and clipped your wings.
Your little body's very sore.
You do not twinkle anymore.
Is this how it has to end?
Will you ever fly again?
Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!
How I wonder what you're at!"
As the Dormouse sang to himself, he felt his eyelids starting to droop, despite the fact that his right eye was held open. His grasp on the machinery he was working on loosened until his arms fell against the old checkered v
