Crocodiles Under The Bed

There are crocodiles under my bed,
Of different colors
Green, blue, and red
Where they came from;
I dont know
But every night they throw a show

A wild fiesta with colors galore
With streamers and noise makers all over the floor
They play wild games from distant lands
And make awesome sculptures from foreign sands

They love to listen to the crocodile rock
While they nibble upon strange flavored rocks
They blast their music with a flare
And war crazy wigs that look like mares

Every night theres a jubilee
And they never think to invite me!
Yet under my bed they choose to play
And keep me up from night till day
Oh how I wish theyd go away
And perhaps stop their wild partying some day
They keep me up with their noise and chatter
Its as if, to them,
Sleep doesnt matter!

I believe my mom thinks Im insane
When I ramble on this way
She says, Its just the sound of rain,
The noise will eventually go away.
But this has gone far enough!
Ill get my Dad
For hes quite tough

I shouted, Dad!
And in he rain
From my expression
He knew I was mad
Then he asked, What is it Dan?
I told him of the crocodiles under the bed
As my anger turned my face bright red
I told him about their wild get-togethers
And how I wished theyd go stay with my sister,
Heather

He said, Oh dear that is quite wrong
They cant continue to keep you up
With games and song.
My father said, Ill be right back.
He later returned into my room with a sack

He stuffed the crocs into it
One by one
And kept at it till the job was done
He assured me hed send them to the moon
So they could part with Martians
And moon goons

I hugged my Dad and said goodnight
As I watched him carry the crocs out of sight
I rested my head and stifled a yawn
As I drifted off to sleep
I dreamt of flying cows on a mystical lawn
As heather was kept up by mamboing sheep...