The kids were fast asleep in their den,
Their parents up late watching Cutthroat Kitchen,
The dog squeaked his monkey toy and constantly pawed at it,
And the boogeyman came creeping--
The boogeyman came creeping out of the kids’ small closet.
“Mom!” cried the youngest, in fear for his life,
While the oldest ran to her desk for her handy pocket knife,
And the middle simply froze, shaken to his core,
And the boogeyman started banging,
He would not stop his banging,
The boogeyman kept banging against the closet door.
The mom looked at the dad and told him, “Your turn,”
While the dad sighed and paused the Food Network rerun.
He dragged his feet to their room; they do this every night.
But as he begged the children to go to sleep,
Please, just go to sleep,
The boogeyman still was knocking and gave the dad a fright.
“Barbara!” yelled the dad, not believing his eyes,
“It's your turn, Craig!” screamed the mom, not wanting her comfort jeopardized,
Then some silence ensued, till the mom got up and groaned,
And trudged to the kid’s room,
Trudged unhappily to their room,
Trudged in to see and her family as pale and still as gravestones.
“There is no boogeyman!” exclaimed Barbara, turning the light on with a flicker,
But she whipped open the closet door and saw a strange hooded figure.
She rolled her eyes and ratted out the mischievous boogeyman to keep him at bay.
She already knew mischievous boogeyman,
The mischievous boogeywoman:
“Your sister is home from college, and it's April Fool’s Day!”