It’s best to be home before dark
And not be walking through the park.
The Zombaths come oozing out of the grave
Still trying hard their souls to save.
Some say it’s just superstition
That they’re escaping their perdition
But I don’t want to play the fool
And be the victim of a Ghoul.
I don’t want to be brave
And see Things rise out of the grave.
Rather stay home on the farm
And protect myself from harm.
Being out at night is such a fright
As my worst fears I try to fight.
Rather stay home and play some bingo
Than go out and get eaten by a Wendingo
Or be attacked by a Big Foot Yeti
And made into a pile of spaghetti.
‘Cause the Goblins’ll get ya if you don’t watch out
Of that belief I have no doubt.
Some of the old stories are so hairy scary
I don’t even trust the old Tooth Fairy
Or the Sandman who comes sneaking through the night
And throws sand in your face, what a fright!
And the Bogeyman about whom so much I’ve read
I can’t go to sleep without looking under the bed.
And the Ghosts I see floating around the room
Having just escaped from the temple of doom.
The Vampires will bite you on the neck
And you’ll bleed out, but what the heck
It’s better than letting Frankie’s monster get you
Or get eaten by the Blob from outta the bayou
I hear feet going clompity clomp
Probably Freddie rising outta the swamp.
I try my best to be brave and tough
But of courage I can’t seem to get enough.
I know these things are very true
‘Cause they’re all on TV for me to view
And you know it wouldn’t be very fair
To show a bunch of lies up there.
So I have to believe everything I’ve seed
And all of the things that I do read.
I frightened myself the other day
And I really don’t know just what to say.
I had myself a real good scare
I looked in the mirror and I wasn’t there
I looked again in that direction
And I couldn’t see my own reflection.
Guess it's finally got to my brain
And my sanity is on the wane
I've become one of THEM, my worst fear
And I'd better get my ass outta here
Before the sun's rays strike me and I disappear
So it's back to my coffin in the cellars
To sleep all day with the creepy fellers.
Comments about this poem (Spooks by George Hunter )
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