The Krampus creeps on down the hall --
He has his bag; he has his sticks --
He's looking for the child who kicks
And loves to make his siblings fall.
He stands there, sideways, in the door --
That way his ashen horns will fit --
The one who likes to steal and hit
Is off the bed and on the floor.
The Krampus' tongue rolls down his chest --
He steps one hoof into the room
To grab the boy who'll wish the womb
Had never let him from its wrest.
The boy awakes in nightmare screams
That Christmas morning while the joys
Of girls polite and gentle boys
Delight in all their Santa dreams.