At night when all lights are out
Roaches ruling the kitchen march stout
The wings wide open,
And tusks high and sharpened
They rule the place
As if it is there own space
Slowly I go and switch on the light
To see many roaches moving in swift
Hustling the way, running in haste
Slumping into all what they can taste!
I feel sheepish, helpless to act
As these tiny roaches show me the fact
Any weapons with which I can charge
I muse hardly, thinking as a sarge
Then the venomous spray comes in play
And the gnomes perish as I start to slay.
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