by Lisa McCourt Hollar
When you hear the floorboards creak,
Late at night when you can’t sleep
And the howling wind pounds against the door
And something clatters across the floor,
Close your eyes, close them tight,
Lest what you see may cause you fright.
Psycho Joe’s come out to prowl,
Looking for a body to disembowel.
He’s especially happy if you’re still alive,
When he begins to explore what you have inside.
He’ll giggle with glee, as he hands you your spleen,
And dance with joy whilst you scream.
Don’t look into his soulless eyes,
Lest you see Satans’ disguise.
His balding head and faded features
Hide from view a tormented creature.
Your pleas for mercy go unheard
As he announces, dinner is served.
He’ll eat your heart, give your liver to the cat,
And pluck out your eyes to feed to the rats.
So when the wind is howling, the floorboards are creaking,
You may want to make sure it’s just the faucet leaking
And not Psycho Joe washing his hands,
Before eating a dinner, his appetite demands.