Underneath the night lamp’s glow,
Watchmen of their Uncle Ho,
Who sleeps inside a case of glass,
While queueing schoolkids shuffle past.
They titter now, or gasp in shock,
Shushed by guards around the clock,
But with the waning of the sun,
Ravens big as humans come.
No titters now, no angry glares,
Just blackened forms, in ones and pairs,
Each step is counted, round they go,
The watchmen of their Uncle Ho.