Its Under the Bed
My poor old grandpa, he’s my hero
Respect from grandma? Nigh on zero
She nags him rotten all the time
I’ll illustrate that point… in rhyme
***
‘I’ll save you from ghosties,’ my grandpa once said
And grandma said, ‘Don’t put that stuff in his head.’
It’s spooky that ghosts are of people now dead
That night there were breathing sounds under my bed
That guttural breathing was making me scared
I should have looked but I just never dared
Grandpa said, ‘Glare back if ghosts ever stared.’
And gran said, ‘You wouldn’t say that if you cared.’
But what should I do when they’re under my bed
I kept thinking what would my grandpa have said
But grandma would say, ‘I should not be misled,’
and, ‘Grandpa should find a new subject instead.’
There’s breathing beneath me and I wipe a tear
Surely no ghosts could be so very near
But my grandpa managed to lessen my fear
His voice whispered, ‘Don’t tell your grandma I’m here.’
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