There’s an Ogre in my house
Who looks just like my Dad.
He always comes in after dark
But only when I’m bad.
If I wriggle out of bed
And creep back to the telly.
I see him lolling in Dad’s chair
And holding his big belly.
When he catches sight of me
It makes me shake with fright.
“Go back to bed!” he roars loudly
And points into the night.
His bottom echoes back his words
It rumbles at his toes
This is enough to send me running,
And clutching at my nose.
There is an Ogre in our house
Who likes to watch our telly.
He has Dad’s eyes, and Dad’s voice too
And feet that are more smelly.
Much later if I sneak a look
The Ogre’s eyes are closed.
With head thrown back, and mouth agape
He rumbles at his toes.
I still don’t understand,
How Ogre always knows
If I’m asleep, or creeping round.
He’s not just in a doze.
I stay in bed when lights are out!
I’ve learned that this is best.
Mum says it keeps Dad in his chair
Which scares away the pest.
Editor’s Note: This poem won a Common Thread Challenge: to write a children’s rhyme with a moral.
(c) Carry Ward 2004