The Sitter

The Sitter There it is Sitting in the old wicker chair Grinning its foul slavering grin It moves nothing than its face. Every night it appears Until waking and shaking I reach for the pull light string It then evaporates at pace. I will take the chair back With its eviction will go the glob Never more to appear With its evil sneer Its cynical jeer I will not fail in the execution of the job I will not ever again fall into the snare Of buying an antique second hand chair!