The swallows swept as children slept,
Their locks clung to their brow,
The little wooden hill that night,
Was followed by the vow,
That they will say their prayers at bed,
Will swear to never be mislead,
Then when their sleepy eyelids droop,
The sandman waits his chance.
His chance to lead them merry dance,
He sprinkles magic sand,
The colours of the rainbow,
Spill from Lukøje’s hand.
It lightly falls on half-closed eyes,
The child is soon so sweet surprised,
By magic dreams to please the night,
The sandman makes his choice.
Upon his wacky way he goes,
And if the child was good,
He’ll tell them night-time stories,
As only sandman could.
Such lively tales to sweeten night,
But if that day they sinned,
No dreams await the sleeping child,
The sandman has no choice.
Ole Lukøje is unknown to sin,
Or think an unkind thought,
The child will sleep the whole night through,
But dreams will come to nought,
Then when at daybreak mother cries,
It’s time for school and she must rise,
She’ll rub the sand to clean her eyes,
And promise to be good.