A poem about why you shouldn't have an early night on your birthday.
Voices in the night
Wake me from my bed
Did I really hear them
Or are they in my head
Maybe they are remnants
Of my fevered dreaming
Or maybe burglars broke in
And are downstairs scheming
Reaching for the golf club
I keep beneath my bed
Remembering I don't play golf
Find my cricket bat instead
Sneaking down the stairs
Trying not to make a sound
Peeping round the corner
Voices getting very loud
Realising I'm in the nude
Doesn't help my plight
Naked man with cricket bat
Must make a sorry sight
Plucking up my courage
And jumping out quite smartly
Everybody yells "Surprise!
Welcome to your party"
Wake me from my bed
Did I really hear them
Or are they in my head
Maybe they are remnants
Of my fevered dreaming
Or maybe burglars broke in
And are downstairs scheming
Reaching for the golf club
I keep beneath my bed
Remembering I don't play golf
Find my cricket bat instead
Sneaking down the stairs
Trying not to make a sound
Peeping round the corner
Voices getting very loud
Realising I'm in the nude
Doesn't help my plight
Naked man with cricket bat
Must make a sorry sight
Plucking up my courage
And jumping out quite smartly
Everybody yells "Surprise!
Welcome to your party"