Boneyard creepers written by Alan.s.Robinson

Creeping through the boneyard in the black depths of the night

When decent folk are sleeping ghastly creatures come out eating

Nibbling little teeth are noshing on the fibulas and tibias

Critters crunching on the carpals and munching metatarsal morsels

Sneakers, sneakers, boneyard creepers

Creepers, creepers, boneyard sneakers

So is it any wonder that the ghosts should flee their graves

From the ghouls in their coffins gnawing tasty their remains

Groaning round the yew tree, mumbling, grumbling at the cold

And the harrowing wind that would chill the marrow in their bones

Meanwhile resting with their backs against the upright ‘dearly beloved’s

The kids who think they’re vampires neck their bud’ from Mother Hubards’

With ink etched on their torsos they await for Satan’s call

In the hoodies that their mothers washed and ironed with their smalls

They were sat among the fallen leaves and never knew the danger

Never saw their true position in the hard forged food chain of nature

For sharking through the darkness come those pesky little creatures

Good men flee the devil, but the devil flees the boneyard creepers

Eat the deeper sleepers, find them with our feelers