Angels, You hear, Change, You see, A wee lil' strange banshee appears, right near you, Might he be the one? She says to you, It's almost three, bumblebree, Hurry and scurry back home, to your family tree, and have a cup of tea before bed, you heard what i said, now run, before you get none, of that whitebread, Go ahead, now, flee! Hooray to you, now you escaped, just you wait, this out of shape videotape, will continue, onto another day, stay away til tuesday.

Poetry by me @demonless (aka cheyne/ cheyanne mayfield)