Is that a pussycat sitting on the steps?

Or just a shadow in the cold, dark depths?

Three a.m. and I just can’t sleep,

So I get out of bed to try and keep

From going mad in the still of the night

And the cold, and the clock, blaring so bright.

So I go to the kitchen, make a hot drink

And what should I hear? Tick. Tick. Tick.

Then I fill up a hottie and I hold it tight

And try to relax in the middle of the night

But the endless purr of the fridge drives me mad,

And that ticking from the clock never seemed so loud.

I pull the hottie tighter, drag a rug around my knees

And beg for the clock to STOP TICKING PLEASE!

Then I hear drip-drip from the bathroom tap

And drag the blanket further into my lap.

The warmth from my hottie is coming to an end

As I slowly but surely, go ‘round the bend.

I hear a creak in the very next room -

Is the house just breathing, or does a burglar loom?

I hear so many sounds that aren’t there by day

They must wait for night, to come out to play.

The moral of this story is, if you can’t sleep

Stay in bed ‘cause your house will give you the creeps!