Out by the picket fence the village of Dank lies
With little dwellings of limestone lit by fireflies
Creepy residents in this town have no real names
They are only known by their silly hopping games
Elves dwell beyond the flowers in a fallen log
At times I see them taking walks with a small dog
The dog is for protection from the neighbor's cat
Because she would surely eat them in nothing flat
The elves and the crickets live on separate streets
Patrolled by vicious shrews as they walk their beats
Rows of poison mushrooms mark the bounds of the hood
And consequences of straying are well understood
Crickets are really changelings from a dark star
Creatures of the night knowing not what they are
With eyes of twin moons and faces without noses
Playing songs with bowstrings on their little toesies
Waving antennae on top of their pointy faces
You can find them living in the deep dark places
They jump with little hops and do crickity things
And high on their backs are little dormant wings
Speaking with chirps of loud incessant chatters
Discussing elf food and other cricket matters
With shell so clear and thin they avoid the light
Only venturing out when the timing is right
At times when they are seeking food for themselves
They can become dinner for wayward hungry elves
Because elves also are creatures that rule the night
And they eat crickets and other bugs with delight
Elves have big ears with some supersonic hearing
Crickets are singing and don’t know they’re nearing
When the elves are on the prowl looking for a feed
If you are a cricket you had better take heed
So when crickets become quiet when the night is dense
Elves are having a snack out by the picket fence
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