As the sun goes down Its time for rest My weary three sons Put up thier best. They putter and dink They resist and slink Away from the chores That result in closed doors. Its time for showers, teeth and hair, At times I think they must Gang up in a pair. They can think of more reasons Than the ocean has sand To put off the inevitable Of going to sleep. But finally they shut those weary, sweet eyes Its off to dreamland For three bedy-by guys.