When they answered the bell on that wild winter night
There was no one expected and no one in sight
Then they saw something standing on top of an urn
Whose peculiar appearance gave them quite a turn
All at once it leapt down and ran into the hall
Where they chose to remain with its nose to the wall
It was seemingly deaf to whatever they said
So at last they stopped screaming and went off to bed
It joined them at breakfast and presently ate
All the syrup and toast and a part of the plate
It wrenched off the horn from the new gramophone
And could not be persuaded to leave it alone
It betrayed a great liking for peering up flues
And for peeling the soles of its white canvas shoes
At times it would tear out whole chapters from books
Or put roomfuls of pictures askew on their hooks
Every sunday it brooded and lay on the floor
Inconveniently close to the drawing room door
Now and then it would vanish for hours from the scene
But alas be discovered inside a tureen
It was subject to fits of bewildering wraths
During which it would hide all the towels from the bath
In the nigh through the house it would aimlessly creep
In spite of the fact it’s being asleep
It would carry off objects of which it grew fond
And protecting them by dropping them into the pond
It came seventeen years ago and the this day
It has shown no intention of going away
