There’s something in the garden
I can see a shadowy shape
There it is behind the shed
I think it’s wearing a cape

I wish the moon was full
So I could see more clearly
It’s pitch black out there
I’m staying in here, yes really!

Look, it’s moving slowly now
It’s heading toward the house
Quick, draw the curtains
Be as quiet as a mouse

Pick up that walking stick
Just whisper so it can’t hear
I hope it can’t smell too well
As it’s going to smell my fear

It’s trying the kitchen door now
It’s double locked don’t worry
It’s heading round to the front
Put the chain on the door, hurry

The letter box is opening
I can see a pair of eyes
They’re bloodshot and bulbous
The size of mini pork pies

I can smell its pungent breadth
Things are becoming quite clear
They’re my Grandad’s eyes
And that smell is beer!