There are zombies out there at the base of the hill.
Just ate Jack, now they're waiting for Jill.
I don't like Sundays, as they're always there staring, long time continually scaring.
They just couldn't care less, only hunting for dinner.

Their scouts are about, all looking for snout.
Their eyes are wide open, staring right through, all the humans they see,
Thinking of nothing just looking for tea.
They don't speak at all, merely mumbling, they all lost their tongues.
Stopping for a moment, to **** on their thumbs.
Really good at moaning and groaning.
Crying fake tears.
Tommy the tormented one is stroking his ears.
Their stomachs are grumbling.
They're so very hungry.
Want you and me.
With fine Scottish bonnets, pretty spicy, bouquet garni.
Zombie fodder for Sunday tea.
(c) Livvi