Dinosaurs dug themselves into the rock,

but the Larnimans, though they have come

from a world far off grown unbearably hot,

are here now - and they're missing their mum.

 

The Larnimans dwelt on a distant planet

somewhat tiny in dimension.

Big fish in the pond they used to inhabit,

here their size escapes your attention.

 

One eye that glows like burning coal

is all of which they are possessed;

behind the bend of the toilet bowl

is where they construct a nest.

 

"What colour are they?" you may wish to say,

but perhaps are too timid to ask.

Their tireless wings are lugubrious grey,

their bodies striped brown and black.

 

They emerge in the dark and quiet,

being a shy and retiring crew

who devour a most singular diet

consisting of piddle and poo.

 

So if during the night you must visit

the loo and you hear something queer,

don't wake us enquiring "What is it?"

It's the Larniman's, silly, they're here!

 

Before you dispatch one with violence

remember how far he has come,

across all of the starry silence

and recall that he's missing his mum.

 

Contrariwise, how will your bottom

relax in a comfortable pose

when knowing - you won't have forgotten -

beneath you a single eye glows?

 

To resolve the dilemma, act quickly

and shine on the creature a light;

it makes Larnimans weak and sickly,

puts an end to unflagging flight.

 

Then using your fingers adroitly

taking care not to liquidate,

envelop his four limbs lightly,

pop him back in....oh, too late!

 

Did I not mention the poison?

The effect it will have on your form?

Your flesh is beginning to tighten,

your eyes have converged and grow warm.

 

You've a hankering for your mother;

you wait for the waste to descend.

I'm afraid that you shall not recover!

You're going....you're gone round the bend!

 

It was her favourite bedtime story:

"'Course I know it's not real!" she said.

But she woke me every morning

crying "Daddy, I've wet the bed!"