Bean Crock the demonic clown

has a big red nose and a polka dot bow

he turns his victims’ frowns upside down

by hanging them by their toes

it’s like a trip to the smorgasbord

when he visits a maternity ward

He has an infectious laugh and smile

like the anthrax he keeps in a vial

his jovial antics warm the heart and soul

like one sizzling in a skillet, over coal

with a pie to the face and a knife to the throat

he’ll come to your birthday and sacrifice a goat

by the slide whistle and the honking horn

from our fears and nightmares he was born