Too Many Clowns in a Car

The scariest thing I've seen by far
Is too many clowns in a car
With oversized feet and coloured hair
There's no way they could all fit in there!

With a parp of the horn and a screech of the choke
The little car stops in a puff of smoke
One clown, two clowns, three and four
They all start streaming out the door.

My head starts to pound like a witch doctor drumming
As the grease-painted freaks just keep on coming
It's not as if the car's an estate
Where were they sitting? Look, there's number eight!

There are certain things that I resent
Like six fat Englishmen in a tent
For murderous dolls I've lost no love
And apart from Zippy, I hate the puppet glove.

But it's clowns in cars that I really detest
Nine, ten, eleven, and all the rest!
I try not to let this phobia beat me
But I can't go to sleep or the clowns will eat me.

I'm not the apotheosis of humanity
Not well known for my shining sanity
And the thing that has caused my mental scars
Is too many clowns in too many cars.