The clock ticking as my mind I tock,
Nothing more mellow than eggnog throck.
I lie in a chair all but completely unaware,
What creature may lurk set to snare.
For I am not frightenend nor ever shall be,
I am a seed planted of an old apples tree.
Tall and stout as I scurry all around about,
Fear me creatures for my roar and shout.