There’s Something Growing in my Shoe
There's something growing in my shoe.
And I just don't know what to do.
See, in my bedroom late last week,
I felt this lump and took a peek.
And when I saw three eyes look back,
I thought my heart would soon attack.
I told myself, “It's just your brain.
“You're going wiggy like Aunt Jane.”
I waited 'till I'd caught my wind
before I looked inside again.
Each of those eyes was pinned on me.
I'll tell you just what they could see:
my mouth was open wide as wide,
my tonsil dancing deep inside.
I told myself, “It's just a dream!”
And then I screamed another scream.
One eye looked left.
One eye looked right.
The middle one kept me in sight.
I think if there had just been two,
I would have made no big to-do.
(`Cause lots of things have just a pair
like rats, and moose, and grizzly bear).
I should have smooshed it on the floor
or thrown my shoe against the door.
But here's the truth, I have to say,
I turned around and ran away.
I had to tell the family, see,
about those eyes that numbered three.
No one believed me (well, would you?)
until I showed them each my shoe.
The house was filled with screams again.
Dad asked what I'd been stepping in.
And as we beat a swift retreat,
Mom asked if I had washed my feet.
Now, every day it grows a bit
and yesterday the seams all split.
The eyes are peering out the gaps,
and Dad is setting tons of traps.
Mom wants to call the Green Berets,
and Gran's been speechless for three days.
I think that we should pack and go
(who knows how big this thing might grow).
Mutated monster or foot fungus…
next week it could be humongous!
So I am telling each of you
not to sleep but WATCH YOUR SHOES!
copyright 2012
And I just don't know what to do.
See, in my bedroom late last week,
I felt this lump and took a peek.
And when I saw three eyes look back,
I thought my heart would soon attack.
I told myself, “It's just your brain.
“You're going wiggy like Aunt Jane.”
I waited 'till I'd caught my wind
before I looked inside again.
Each of those eyes was pinned on me.
I'll tell you just what they could see:
my mouth was open wide as wide,
my tonsil dancing deep inside.
I told myself, “It's just a dream!”
And then I screamed another scream.
One eye looked left.
One eye looked right.
The middle one kept me in sight.
I think if there had just been two,
I would have made no big to-do.
(`Cause lots of things have just a pair
like rats, and moose, and grizzly bear).
I should have smooshed it on the floor
or thrown my shoe against the door.
But here's the truth, I have to say,
I turned around and ran away.
I had to tell the family, see,
about those eyes that numbered three.
No one believed me (well, would you?)
until I showed them each my shoe.
The house was filled with screams again.
Dad asked what I'd been stepping in.
And as we beat a swift retreat,
Mom asked if I had washed my feet.
Now, every day it grows a bit
and yesterday the seams all split.
The eyes are peering out the gaps,
and Dad is setting tons of traps.
Mom wants to call the Green Berets,
and Gran's been speechless for three days.
I think that we should pack and go
(who knows how big this thing might grow).
Mutated monster or foot fungus…
next week it could be humongous!
So I am telling each of you
not to sleep but WATCH YOUR SHOES!
copyright 2012