The Moon Man

Zoon, zoon, cuddle and croon.
Over the crinkling sea,
The moon man flings a silvery net
Fashioned from moonbeams three.
And some folk say that his net lies long
When the midnight hour is ripe.
The moon man fishes for some old song
That fell from a sailor's pipe.
And the waves roll out, and the waves roll in;
The nodding night wind blows.
But why the moon man fishes the sea
Only the moon man knows.
Zoon, zoon, cuddle and croon.
Over the crinkling sea,
The moon man flings his silvery net
Fashioned from moonbeams three.
And some folk say when that great net gleams,
The waves are a dusky blue.
The moon man fishes for two little dreams
He lost when the world was new.
And the waves roll out, and the waves roll in;
The nodding night wind blows.
But why the moon man fishes the sea
Only the moon man knows.
Zoon, zoon, cuddle and croon.
Over the crinkling sea,
The moon man flings his silvery net
Fashioned from moonbeams three.
And some folk say when that salt sea foams
And the silver net lines snare,
The moon man fishes for carven combs
That float from the mermaids' hair.
And the waves roll out, and the waves roll in;
The nodding night wind blows.
But why the moon man fishes the sea
Only the moon man knows.
But why the moon man fishes the sea
Only the moon man knows.