terror and humour do mix!

Hear the scratching at your door,
Not the handle, near the floor,
Now it moves up to the latch,
A gentle, soft, insistent scratch!

There you lie upon your bed,
Awakened from a dream now fled,
You hear the sound and turn your head,
Heart skips a beat! You start to dread,

What you may find outside your door,
If you should dare to cross the floor,
Which seems to stretch for evermore,
But you must know what's at the door.

You fumble for the bedside light-
Your mind is tired and filled with fright-
Light smashes down upon the floor,
The lamp is smashed, 'twill shine no more!

And now your heart begins to tremble,
As in your dresser you must fumble,
But soon a candle's in your hand,
The matches should be close to hand!

You find a box, but they are few;
The first one breaks, now there are two,
The next one fails, you start to sweat,
And all around, 'tis darkness yet.

And in the dark, is still the sound,
The scratching comes from all around,
The last match flares, you light the wick,
And wish that you possessed a stick.

With cautious step you cross the floor,
Until at last, you reach the door,
Your hand does shake that holds the candle,
You, heart in mouth, reach for the handle!

You grasp it, filled with icy dread,
And wish you were safe back in  bed,
You turn the handle, pull door to you;
See no danger, so you step through.

A piecing howl, and then a scream!
You wish this all were just a dream!
You see the blood, you feel the pain!
Your legs will never be the same.

You drop the candle to the floor,
Your heart begins to pound still more,
And later, when you think on that,
Come morn you vow to kill the cat!.