TORMENTED BY THE BLUE FOG FARIES

There be a clan of fairies, who live down by the bog,

They buzz around my head, in nights pitch thick, with blue fog,

They have pulled out much of my hair,

I've got bald spots, everywhere,

Once home, I kill the sharp pains, with two pints of red grog.  

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MR. POE, MADE ME KNOW, WHAT I DID NOT WANT TO KNOW

At 13, I read a horror story, by Eddie Poe,

The story was so scary, I could not walk, I couldn't go,

It frightened, so bad,

When I was a lad,

I wish the story I never read, and would never know.

WHERE THE BOOGEYMAN BE

There was a boogeyman who hung around a boogey-bog,

He had a big boogey-cat, and a little boogey-dog,

He drank boogey-beer,

He ate boogey-deer,

Then the bad boogeyman would sleep under a boogey-log.

MAYBE IT'S THE BOOGEYMAN?

As I laid upon my bed,

Someone painted my toenails red,

Did some elf play a part?

Or, a troll's expression of art?  

Maybe it's the boogeyman trying to get inside my head?