The Joy of Nits

Headlouse dance as agile ballerinas across a small childs skull And believe the truth as im only good at that I havent seen one for a while Its hard to confess That i actually miss Foriging the tresses of my little sprigs Salivating Eyes dancing Hither and tither To and fro As if anyone would Id always know Where on earth the little devils would go I know their lifecycle Lifespan And im ever so proud to admit that i can Spot one At fifty paces (The safari Hunt!) I used to settle down, comb at hand I knew i was at it when i imagined A safari hat I was the hunter Their stalker Trapsing through the thick dark forestry of hair Silent in deep excitement 'THERE! ' Ive got another one Id chalk up the amounts leaving bloodied squashed and squelched Knits pon white tissue A most satisfactory Blood count I was good, i was brilliant A most efficient predator of those nasty Horrid little blood sucking beasts that chose to feast On my childrens heads Id gather up the population Ensuring they were all DEAD! (Bet you scratched your head at least once whilst reading this)