ELF-SHELF

Unsolicited pixies slipping through my letterbox again;
I put them on the elf-shelf, put them on the elf-shelf.
Hobgoblins in the hobnobs taunting me again;
I put them on the elf-shelf, put them on the elf-shelf.
Goblins gobbling up the teabags,
saying “Here’s how tea’s made, Rachel, go and stuff yourself.”
I put them on the elf-shelf put them on the elf-shelf.
Breakfast cereal on the table – there it is, Snap Crackle & Pop – making me feel uncomfortable;
must be those gnome things on the box.
I put them on the elf-shelf, put them on the elf-shelf.
Ring at the doorbell: oh no, it’s the shelving elf, the shelving elf – tinkling bell on the end of his hat –
saying “Madam, I’ve come to inspect your elf-shelf:
rawl-plugs, brackets, things like that”
and he hangs up his little gossamer jacket
with the orange fluorescent stripe across the back
and says to me, “Two toadstool spores in my cup of tea please love…
oh dear dear dear” he says, “oh no no no” he says,
“I do not like the look of that –
that elf-shelf isn’t hanging level –
look at that corner, should be nicely bevelled –
somebody could have their eye out.”
I shout “Listen here, you little piskey”
and I scoop him up on the elf-shelf shovel
and shovel and shovel him onto the elf-shelf.
And now there’s unsolicited pixies slipping through my letterbox again;
I put them on the elf-shelf, put them on the elf-shelf.
Latchkey leprechauns through the catflap,
lapping up the Senior Feline Science-Plan crunchies;
a never-ending battle, eh?
I wonder what the cat’ll say.