Gibbery, Jabbery Night Sounds

And blatherskites that sit on my bed,

keeping me up in the night

Sometimes I don’t mind, and make them some tea,

but mostly they give me a fright.

“I hate to be rude,” I ask very sweetly,

“But could you please,

would you please,

speak more discreetly?”

“There is gobbledygook oozing out of my ears.

I’ll be mopping my floors for days.

And everyone knows prattle’s hard to get out,

for the stains become set in their ways.”

So the prickles, and woolies, and blatherskites, too,

all sleep in the other room.

I tuck them in soundly, making sure they are safe,

and tell them I’ll see them ‘round noon.

But wouldn’t you know, as I lie in the bed,

I hear things I’ve never heard.

Like chirping and creaking and skittering sounds,

and a big, giant, hooting night bird.

So I run to the room, where familiars are resting,

to quickly crawl in with them there.

And they lull me to sleep with their twaddling ways,

and I drift off without a care.