When the Light Goes Off

When the light goes off,
the bear comes out
and talks to the crocodile under the bed:
“You take the legs and I’ll have the head.”
The bear has a hairy, snuffly snout.
I call my Mum with a big, loud SHOUT!

The light comes on.
“There’s nothing there,” she says.


When the light goes off,
the bear comes out
and talks to the bat hanging down from the light:
“I think she’ll give in without a fight.”
The bat has a musty, mouldy smell.
I call my Mum with a big, loud YELL!

The light comes on.
“There’s nothing there,” she says.


When the light goes off,
the bear comes out
and talks to the snake curled up on the shelf:
“I think she’s a little too bony myself.”
The snake slides down towards my pillow.
I call my Mum with a big, loud BELLOW!

The light comes on.
“There’s nothing there,” she says.


When the light goes off,
the bear comes out
and talks to the gorilla behind the door:
“I think she’s asleep, but I’m not sure.”
The gorilla hasn’t eaten a thing all week.
I call my Mum with a desperate squeak ...

The light comes on.
“There’s nothing there,” she says.

She picks up the bear, the bat and the snake;
she grabs the gorilla and gives him a shake.
She tosses the crocodile with all the rest
and shuts them into the big toy chest.
The light goes off.

Not a sound -
Not a single animal to be found.
All the creatures had to go.
There’s nothing in the room, I know.

As my head nods down to a sleepy rest,
I hear a whisper from the big toy chest:

“HOW ABOUT A NIBBLE ON HER LITTLE TOE?”