GHOSTS IN THE ATTIC
There’s a spook on the roof of my house
That cannot in any way be described as a mouse.
With heffalump thuds and clanks and cluds
It rattles its chains
On the panes
Of windows that are not there
And waits on the very top stair
Of steps that do not exist
Wriggling and giggling
And getting in an awful twist
Because ghosts are scary
It’s a well-known fact
But no matter what it tries
I seem to lack
The spirit to be spookled and frit
By something so cute
As a baby snow monster
Trying its best
To outshine the rest
Of the ghosts that already live … way up there
There’s a spook on the roof of my house
That cannot in any way be described as a mouse.
With heffalump thuds and clanks and cluds
It rattles its chains
On the panes
Of windows that are not there
And waits on the very top stair
Of steps that do not exist
Wriggling and giggling
And getting in an awful twist
Because ghosts are scary
It’s a well-known fact
But no matter what it tries
I seem to lack
The spirit to be spookled and frit
By something so cute
As a baby snow monster
Trying its best
To outshine the rest
Of the ghosts that already live … way up there