somewhere between midnight and two
The elves arrive as twinning pairs
The goal of course to mess up my hair
With magic curlers and snail goo
They twist my hair as elves will do
Every night my perfect locks
Transform into snivilous flocks
For when I wake at half past six
Look in the mirror at snarlous licks
of twisted, knotted, ruinous hair
created by elven twinning pairs
Before I can unravel my dome
I must locate my favorite comb
I search and fumble all around
But my favorite comb cannot be found
Aghast, dismayed, my shout profound
"A gnome! A gnome, has stolen my comb!"
My wife calls back from the floor below
"What did you say? Did you say gnome?
Again I shout as once before,
Louder yet, I do implore,
"A gnome I say, has stolen my comb!"
"Silly man", says she to me,
"No gnome touched it, twas me you see,
I put your comb in the drawer fair
It was unsightly sitting there
Stuffed with so much tangled hair,"
I stood my gaping mouth hung down
For in the drawer I had found
The comb hidden by a stealthy gnome
A gnome, who's hiding in my home.