Oh, I’m not afraid of the darkness.
I don’t mind an absence of light.
I can’t say I’m scared of the sunset
or things that go “bump” in the night.
I’ve never been frightened of monsters
or tentacles under my bed.
Not skeletons, witches or goblins
or creatures come back from the dead.
I’m not at all worried of werewolves,
or even a vampire’s bite.
I’m simply not scared of the darkness,
except when you turn off the light.
Don’t ever dine with Frankenstein;
He feasts on flaming turpentine.
He chomps and chews on soles of shoes,
and quaffs down quarts of oily ooze.
At suppertime he’ll slurp some slime.
He’s known to gnaw on gristly grime.
His meals of mud and crispy crud
will curl your hair and chill your blood.
His poison, pungent, putrid snacks
may cause you seizures and attacks.
Your hair may turn completely white.
You may pass out or scream in fright.
Your skin will crawl.
Your throat will burn.
Your eyes will bulge.
Your guts will churn.
Your teeth will clench.
Your knees will shake.
Your hands will sweat.
Your brain will bake.
You’ll cringe and cry.
You’ll moan and whine.
You’ll feel a chill
run down your spine.
You’ll lose your lunch.
You’ll lose your head.
and dine with ME instead.
My brother had the TV on
a horror movie marathon.
He watched “The Blob,” “The Thing,” “The Fly,”
and then “The Brain That Wouldn’t Die.”
He watched “The Bride of Frankenstein”
and “Halloween: Parts Eight and Nine”.
Then “Monsters From Beyond the Moon”
and “Creature From the Black Lagoon.”
He stayed awake throughout the night.
His eyes are glazed, he’s ghostly white.
He’s looking like a nervous heap.
He’s much too scared to go to sleep.
He’s panic-stricken, pale as death.
He’s shivering and short of breath.
So won’t you tell me, anyone,
just how come he has all the fun?
At Bigfoot’s Shoe Emporium
you’ll find a dozen aisles
of shoes and boots and slippers too,
in all the latest styles.
At Bigfoot’s you can try on
nearly any kind of shoe.
They’ve shoes with springs and blinking lights,
and fancy air pumps too.
The prices are fantastic.
You’ll find all the greatest deals
on running shoes and penny loafers,
moccasins and heels.
They even offer friendly help
without an added charge,
and all their shoes are comfy
extra, extra, extra large.
The Headless Horseman’s Hattery
has hats of every kind.
They’ve just the hat you want
no matter what you have in mind.
They’ve baseball caps and bonnets.
They’ve sombreros and berets.
They’ve hats to wear with uniforms
and hats for holidays.
They’ve top hats made of Asian silk,
and fezzes made of felt,
and hats of wool, and hats of straw,
and hats of beaver pelt.
They welcome cash and credit cards.
They’ll gladly take a check.
And all their hats are sure to fit
on any headless neck.
I went to the barber.
He cut off my hair,
which would have been great,
but he didn’t stop there.
He slipped with his scissors.
He snipped with his shears,
and cut off my eyebrows
and both of my ears.
I jumped in my seat
causing several more slips;
he cut off my nose
and my cheeks and my lips.
With one final slip-up
he cut off my head,
and that is the reason
I ended up dead.
So kids, if your dad tells you,
“You need a trim,”
just pull out this poem
and show it to him.
As soon as he reads this,
I’m willing to bet,
that that’s the last haircut
that you’ll ever get.
There’s nothing like a shopping spree
to elevate my mood;
the joy of filling shopping carts with
clothing, toys and food.
I’m something of a clotheshorse;
I can never have enough.
I go out shopping every day
to buy a bunch more stuff.
I hang around the shopping mall
and corner grocery store.
I’m fond of farmers markets
and garage sales I adore.
I love the thrill of bargain hunting.
Sales are oh so nice.
You’ll find I frequent flea marts
just to haggle over price.
So if you’d like to learn to shop
but find you need a mentor,
I hope you’ll come and visit me
for I’m The Shopping Centaur.
Mister Horrible Head and Miss Ugliness Face
are the ugliest couple alive.
Yes indeed they’re so ugly that people run screaming
whenever they see them arrive.
You might say they’re misshapen, repulsive and vile,
or cadaverous, gruesome and gross.
Maybe hideous, grisly, repellent and shocking,
disgusting, unpleasant, morose.
You can call them unsightly, or horrid or scary,
or monstrous or frightful or bad.
You can call them whatever you like, but to me
they will always be called “Mom and Dad.”
Oh my darling,
Oh my darling,
Oh my darling,
I abhor you
and adore you.
You’re my darling,
was a doctor
in a castle
near the Rhine.
On a slab
inside his lab
you were constructed
Arms and legs and
head and torso
that the doctor
Bolts of lightning,
gave you life dear
Then you rose up
from the table
with a bellow
and a whine.
You went lurching,
for some dinner,
When the townsfolk
saw you coming
you sent shivers
down their spines.
So they chased you
with their pitchforks
and their torches
Then you lumbered
to the forest
where you hid
amongst the pine.
While the doc, he
did concoct me,
yes a bride
We were married
in the castle,
you’ll be mine.
We’re a creature
oh my darling,
When the musical contest for monsters convened,
the Wolfman was howling and played like a fiend.
Then Dracula jammed, but flew into a rage
when Frankenstein’s torch singing lit up the stage.
The Mummy, he rapped with the aid of a band,
but stopped when The Blob ate his microphone stand.
The Blob, by the way, also swallowed The Fly.
(I don’t know why he swallowed The Fly.)
The Creature that came from that famous lagoon
was booed by the ghosts when he sang out of tune.
Dr. Jekyll had stage fright and ran off to hide,
while Igor sang love songs to Frankenstein’s Bride.
The Thing did impressions. The Boogey-Man danced.
The Zombie just stood there, completely entranced.
The Invisible Man played his air guitar well,
but no one could see him so no one could tell.
They played through the night having oodles of fun,
but couldn’t determine which monster had won.
And so they decided they’d have to convene
and do it again on the next Halloween.