When the toys are growing weary
And the twilight settles in,
When the nurs'ry still re-echoes

To the children's merry din;
Then unheard, unseen, unnoticed
Steals an old man up the stair,

Lightly to the children passes,
Lays his hand upon their hair.
Softly smiles the good old Sandman,

In their eyes the sand he throws,
Till their little heads are nodding,
And their little eyes must close;

Then the Sandman, very gently,
Takes each child's dimpled hand,
Leads them through the dreamy meadows,

Far away in slumberland,
Far away in slumberland,
Far away in slumberland.