There's a monster in the cupboard,
I hear it breathing in and out,
waiting to grab a hold of me,
of that I have little doubt.
Some days it's cold and frosty,
the days when I need my duffel,
but on reaching in to grab it
I swear I hear a shuffle.
Just like football strikers,
I have to be quick on the bounce,
in and out in seconds before
the monster has time to pounce.
People say I imagine it
and urge me to stop my bleating,
saying the noise and creaks and gurgles
are from the central heating.