donderdag 23 april 2009


More often than not, I wake up at night (by my kids or something else) and can't get back to sleep for something like 3 hours or so. Mostly I come up with solutions about pieces that I'm writing or things I don't know yet how to build. But sometimes I make nursery rhymes. Mostly I forget them straight away, but this time I could still cite it when my oldest boy came waking me up: 

There was a boy called Ling
he had a ring
and dreams about a king
who flies on a wing
to a country called Ming
where all the people sing
just about the spring:

Spring, spring, spring
I'm sitting on a swing
and having a fling
with a girl called Jing

Spring, spring, spring
she's a lovely thing
then broke the string
and gone was Jing

It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing

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