Upon a bed of nails I sleep,
because its cold and also cheap.
I never have to count the sheep,
nor toss and turn from fitful sleep.

A friend of mine, his head did peep,
into my room (my clothes a heap).
He asked about the place I sleep;
"What strange habits do you keep?"

I assured my friend I was no creep;
"I love sharp nails on which to sleep.
Oh, they go in, but not too deep.
But, when I get on I do not leap."

When I'm in bed, I am asleep.
There is no pain to make me weep.
And though my sleep is not too deep,
It couldn't be so cool or so cheap.