There's a swamp at the end your bed, he said, <br />at the end of my bed there's a swamp. <br />My daddy told me so, he did <br />whenever I wouldn't stay in bed. <br />There's a swamp at the end of your bed. <br /> <br />The swamp at the end of my bed <br />is filled with icky worms, <br />they squirm about and wriggle. <br />They're horrible, slippery worms, they are <br />They're horrible, slippery worms. <br /> <br />Still, I stole my daddy's boots last night, <br />I stole my daddy's boots <br />and when the hand strikes 12 O'clock <br />down to the end of the bed, I'll go <br />to the end of the bed, to the end of the bed, <br /> <br />down to the very edge. <br />Down in the quagmire's inners <br />lurk monsters, big and bold, <br />maybe an odd old leather boot <br />has fallen, so I'm told. <br /> <br />It will be such fun to explore it, <br />the swamp that seeps through the floor. <br />My daddy thinks I'll stay in bed, <br />but staying in bed is a bore, I say <br />staying in bed is a bore.<br /><br />Ruth Walters<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-swamp-3/
