My Garden At Night Poem by Alexander Johnson

What is it that comes out to play,
In the darkness of the night?
Digs holes and takes the bread away,
But in the day keeps out of sight.

With trails of slime and piles that smell,
And leaves muddy casts all over our lawn.
Makes little hills of mud as well,
But disappears come crack of dawn.

It steels our acorns right off the tree,
And Makes off with all the hazelnuts,
There's nothing ever left for me,
It must be the biggest greedy guts!

Whatever it is, it scrabbles around,
And keeps me up all night,
When morning breaks it goes to ground,
Or maybe it flies away in fright?

What is it that would play about,
In the hedgerow when its dark?
Yet in the day not venture out,
And hide when it hears a lark.

What do we think, a fox maybe?
Or how about a mischievous owl?
But foxes can't climb a tree,
And birds don't make piles that smell so fowl.

A naughty hedgehog or some rascal toads?
Or maybe a playful rat.
But rats can't make slimy trails like those,
And toads won't make muddy casts like that.

So what is this thing, what could it be,
That plays around and makes me think.
Sneaks in and gets it's food for free,
And makes those piles that really stink!

A Stinkyslinkygreedysprite,
Is what this thing must be,
What creatures make this mess at night?
That we never get to see.

Maybe its the Creepyscrabbleguts,
That makes those holes and steels the bread?
Who makes muddy hills and eats the nuts.
Yes it must be him instead...

Well I think it is now very clear,
They come out at night to play.
But when light appears and dawn is near,
Creepyscrabbleguts hides away.