Watson and Holmes went camping,
One fine, clear summer’s day,
They pitched their tent in a large, green field,
Surrounded by high, bright, hay.
They sat round the campfire.
Holmes smoking on his pipe,
And Watson writing in his diary,
Which later he would type.
When at last they went in the tent,
As tiredness upon them crept,
They slid upon their camp beds,
And on them they just slept.
At three o’clock that morning,
Or maybe there about,
Holmes awoke with quite a start,
And to Watson gave a shout.
“Watson, wake and look, what do you see?”
“I see a clear sky full of stars,
With the bright moon shining over us,
And above me there is Mars”
“Your vision of the stars above
Dear Watson is not tricked
But all that I can now deduce
Is that our tent has just been nicked”