.
This challenge comes form poet James A. Tweedie:
Perhaps the most familiar of all formal, English-language poems is the classic 18th century bedtime prayer that reads:
Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the Lord, my soul to keep.
But if I die before I wake
I pray the Lord, my soul to take.
Over the years, sensitive parents have rewritten it many ways including like this:
Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep;
Angels watch me through the night,
And wake me with the morning light.
The poem has often been parodied and although I believe the original version was perfectly suitable in its day, I’m confident that there are some of you who will be inspired by my challenge to improve on it!
Post your version in the comments section below. No winners, losers, gold medals or participant’s trophies—just fun. Here are three to help kick-start your Muse:
Now I lay me down to rest;
I cheated on my Civics test
But since I got away with it
And passed, I feel okay with it.
Now I lay me down to sleep
I know that what I sow, I’ll reap.
But does that count if no one heard
Me call Irene a “stinky turd?”
As I kneel and bow my head
I pray that I won’t wet the bed
The way I did two nights ago—
And please don’t let my sister know.
Ready, Set, Go!
.
.
Now I lay me down to sleep.
Lord, I am tired of counting sheep.
Bring some pretty girls my way,
Then I will dream of making hay.
Forgive my sins in puberty
For I love every girl I see.
When I awake and cold’s the ember,
Lord, let me pretty girls remember.
Fascinating thoughts on display, especially the iron will many of us harbor.
This comment was meant for Sally Cook.
Now I lay me down to rest.
I made an F on the French test.
I got a spanking. I’m okay.
Please stop the hurting, s’il vous plaît!
Now I stretch me down to rest,
I inform the devil my soul to dress.
Demons torment me through and through,
And vanish swiftly with the morning dew.
Now I lay me down to sleep.
I close my eyes and start to weep.
Another day has just gone past,
The suffering of the world amassed.
My eyelids do not block the sight
Of wretched people in their plight:
The poor and afflicted, in despair,
And victims of a war declared.
I pray the wrath of God will mend
And suffering very soon will end.
I know that He can hear my plea
And I must have all trust in Thee.
It’s a blessing to read this. Thank you.
This prayer I’m forced to do and say
On bloody knees at end of day.
The Vicar says I’m vile and sin-full,
But when he’s gone I’ll have my hand-full.
I pray to nuffin in partic’lar,
And do me best in my vernac’lar;
But bloody ‘ell the bird next door,
I want ‘er, desp’rate, more and more.
I pray to the Gods of Rock ‘n’ Roll,
Like Meat Loaf sez I shud ‘n’ all.
I practice bleedin’ ‘ard all day
To play the strings like Stevie Ray.
(for a baby)
When I lay you down to sleep
I pray for you and kiss your cheek
My prayer, that angels hold you tight
Watch over you ’til morning light
That is so sweet, Sarah, I can picture it being lovingly whispered to a child at bedtime.
Thank you so much, James.
Now I lay sleep not to be
So anxious I pray sincerely
Desperate am I for rest-peace
From this insomnia please release
Revision
Now I lay but not to sleep
Though I pray for dreams so deep
Desperate I am for rest and peace
From this insomnia I need release
Now he lays in permanent sleep
since Moderna juice through his veins did seep.
His death a fact, both sad and true.
Horton shouldn’t have listened to the WHO.
As a child I wept myself to sleep
I prayed the Lord would bring my parents home
The prayers bought them back in dreams
And happy memories filled my heart with joy
Well done, everybody. I’ll not mention favorites but I will confess that I’ve decided to take a step back from my opening promise and give each of you (and any who may subsequently add a verse or two ) a virtual participants trophy after all. Congrats!
Oh, Afghanistan!
How evil, can be man.
I pray the blessed Lord will keep
His loving eye upon His sheep.
TQ, James.
Now I lay me down to sleep
In God, His certainty I keep,
And if my body seems to pass
Then lay it down beneath the grass.
I need not fear, His Voice I hear—
The Voice of Love that I hold dear.
For in His Spirit, we are One,
Our Unity can’t be undone.
Through my window, bright star light
shines His presence here this night.
There from in your Kingdom’s Keep,
comfort me Lord while I sleep.
“Oh” it’s a bedtime prayer now go wash your feet
And one wink for me
While the ocean rocks us to sleep
The bedtime prayer waits for me
Ruby
Now I lay me down to sleep,
diazepam, mixed malt to keep,
hand dyskinesia, palm clasp,
kneeling, though rising final rasp.
Her snoring sets my teeth on edge,
side shelving, teeter on the ledge,
but false that whisky tumbler shared,
or works gummed up if molars paired.
The pillow talk suggests a mare,
dream bucking bronco, some affair;
we need protection from the manes,
the wights of eyes, shades counterpanes.
If I awake, not at a wake,
hot cup of tea for old time’s sake,
she woke to make up, plan my day,
but left me, slumber, nought to say.
So thank the Lord, as ruby dawns
that wisdom of our forty yawns
will keep as dozing, final years
though laughter yet draws streams of tears.
Now, I lay me down to sleep.
Dear Lord, allow me, my head to keep.
Insane Taliban coming to our shores?
Heavy padlocks set on all my doors.
If one killer, in my house comes.
Beneath my pillow, I do have guns.
Will use them, too, without reservation.
I intend to stay alive in this American nation.
P. Redfern. 9/3/2021
As I lay me down to sleep,
With a heavy heart I think
How much I have left undone;
I am culpable I know
And Your loving heart must break
At the sight of earth today.
I pray Dear God that You forgive,
All transgressions great and small,
All delusions and illusions, and
Purify the heart to change
And fill it with Your loving grace.
Bless brave souls far and wide
Who stand for liberty and right
Keep them safe and in Your palm
And cover them with Your wings of love.
As we think of those now gone
And wonder why and are appalled
We believe they are now with You
Their job done, leaving us to
Play our part.
Please Dear God, I pray,
Help us to be unafraid
Death is not the end of all
You are the One to follow
Not the trendy or the shallow.
Just a change to the last stanza of this prayer.
much happier about it now.
Epitaph
As I lay me down to sleep,
With a heavy heart I think
How much I have left undone;
I am culpable I know
And Your loving heart must break
At the sight of earth today.
I pray Dear God that You forgive,
All transgressions great and small,
All delusions and illusions, and
Purify the heart to change
And fill it with Your loving grace.
Bless brave souls far and wide
Who stand for liberty and right,
Keep them safe and in Your palm
And cover them with Your wings of love.
As we think of those now gone
And wonder why and are appalled,
We believe they are now with You
Their job done, leaving us to
Play our part.
Please Dear God, I pray,
Help us to be unafraid
That in the joy of being
With You we will know
Death is not the end of all.
Four corners are there to my bed.
I have four angels overhead
Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.
God bless the bed I sleep upon.
For my Daughters
If tonight brings my last breath,
where I am swept from life to death.
Guard my soul as it takes flight
and lead it to eternal light.
Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray that I don’t make folks weep
At my shot at classical verse
Than mine can there be any worse?
Now I lay me…NOT SO FAST!
Who took out the garbage last?
Do your chore then come to bed
Or IF you wake, you won’t be fed
BEDTIME STORY
Last night as I lay down to sleep
I read aloud the poets’ words
the evening’s prayers my soul to keep
and anyone else’s who might have heard
but here on the high river bluff
even with doors and windows open
there’s no one close enough.
Long lost, the God who might stop in
if I should die before I wake
and off my soiled soul to take.
And so prepared to sail for life or death
I put the poets in their place,
lay back and listened from my berth.
Bullfrogs creaked and croaked from pools.
I heard crickets from the grass,
wind talking through the firs and dry madrone,
a moth between the screen and glass,
other sounds familiar, some unknown.
I turned out the lamp to see instead of being seen.
Below, the water played on rocks a tune,
River running summer slow and lean,
Ribbon of silver silk restored my sight.
By putting out the light
I had turned on the moon.
So often I laid down to sleep
And wondered if I had a soul to keep
And if I died before I waked
Was there that God for whom I ached.
I finally challenged Him one day,
Take me tomorrow night at 3
They’ll all be sleeping, just not me.
Respondez s’il vous plait.