The Nightwatchman

Iain Archer

Colder now, the workers have gone
The factory stretches, it lets out a yawn
A torch, a newspaper under his arm
The keys to every office, and attic and hall

He doesn’t let the lonely silence bring him down
Nobody sees him as the nightwatchman does his rounds

The sound of his boots, his breath and the clock
The rain on the roof, a door he unlocks
A room with a light, a table, a chair
He takes off his hat, and smooths out his thinning hair

He doesn’t let the lonely silence bring him down
Nobody sees him as thе nightwatchman does his rounds

A world asleep, he keeps a close еye
In empty rooms, he waits for the sun to rise

He doesn’t let the lonely silence bring him down
Nobody sees him as the nightwatchman does his rounds

He keeps himself awake, remembering aloud
Nobody sees him as the nightwatchman does his rounds

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