Your snore
does not allure
it's clattering cronk drives me mad,
every molecule of it forces me to sad,
I hate it when I think you've stopped and there's
a lull in the house of pain
but then it spluters back into life and invades my space again;
it's obtrusive to my slumber,  it disturbs my beauty sleep,
I try to hold back tears
but I can't help but wheep,
I have no recourse but to nudge you to try and stop the daemon howl,
I need to quell misery's guttural and halt this Hellish growl,
you startle and sit up but soon settle back into the cries of doom: the minions of Belzubub chanting about gloom.
But despite the fact that when you rest you chudder
as a foghorn lacking charms
I am glad when my eyes open I'm near to your arms,
because although you gurgle with terror
and blast a Witchfinder General coo
I'm always pretty happy when I awake with you.