I hear a scream, “What could that be?”
I’m alone in the house, it’s just lonely lonely me.
I look around doors, and search on the floors,
I even listen out for ghostly cat paws.
But there’s nothing there, I must have been dreaming,
But then I hear again, that curdling screaming.
It doesn’t stop and just keeps on gooooooooing,
My fear and my panic keeps on
g
r
o
w
i
n
g
And then I hear a sound which is awfully distinct
The sound of someone throwing yoghurt in the sink.
I rushed to the fridge and what did I see,
A yoghurt, screaming, that I was saving for my tea.
I couldn’t believe it, it must be a dream,
No way was I visualising sentient cream.
But it was real, it was true,
The yoghurt sniffed, coughed, and had a boohoo.
What was I to do? Is this a yoghurt kid?
And where, oh where, had it lost its lid?
I picked it up and it clinged on tight,
Looking so yummy and creamy and white.
But I couldn’t eat it, not now,
Not now it had bawled as loud as a cow.
So we became best friends, me and the yog,
An undeniable duo, such as master and dog.
So what became of these unlikely friends?
How does this wonderful and magical tale end?
Buckle up, settle down, time to cross the bridge,
As we begin to unwrap the other tales from the fridge.
