The Slobber Mouth lives deep down south,
hunting the Ner' do wells.
with candy canes and wooden trains,
with buzzers and with bells.

With fur of green, that's never clean,
and eyes so big and red.
Four filthy paws with unclipped claws,
he fills the woods with dread.

Spiked tail and horns and teeth like thorns,
fixed in a scarey smile.
A ******* nose and ragged clothes,
make up his unique style.

Baiting his traps with midday naps,
false promises and lies.
with wasted hours and April showers,
and soft spoke lullabyes.

Dust bunnies hop but never stop,
and never are they caught.
For they are wise to slobbers lies,
and all the gifts he's brought.
 
The Mites and Motes in winter coats,
so quickly scurry by.
for they too know never to go,
where Slobbers presents lie.

The feather bed floats over head,
the carpet thick with fluff.
He stamps his feet knowing he's beat
and screams enoughs enough.

He packs his sock and checks the clock,
so soon the house will rise.
Stomping away to sleep all day,
and hide from prying eyes.

Beneath your bed this sleepy head,
sits down to scheme and plan.
Tomorrow night if all goes right,
I'll catch the Bogeyman.

On tippy toes in bedtime clothes,
his teddy in his hand.
He waves goodnight to all in sight,
and leaves for faery lands.