Zombie Dad

When I wake up my Dad in the morning

Everyone thinks he’s alive,

But he’s really quite dead when he gets out of bed

As it’s only a quarter to five.

He’s a zombie, a zombie with strange red-rimmed eyes,

And he groans and he moans and he shrieks and he sighs.

He howls and he yowls as the clock starts to chime.

‘Have you any idea’, he screams, ‘of the time?’

Then he stomps down the stairs in his jim jams

Like he’s some kind of grumpy old ghost,

And he turns on the oven for coffee

And turns on the kettle for toast.

He’s a zombie, a zombie emerged from the rubble

His face is all smeary and covered in stubble

His eyes are all bleary and smeary with ooze

As he slumps up the stairs for another small snooze.

 

 

 

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