I’m scared of men that have big beards

The bushy ones the most

And shiver at the thought they might

Be hiding bits of toast.

If I should see a magpie perched

Upon my apple tree

I’m terrified that something bad

Will soon occur to me.

The number thirteen

doesn’t worry many other folk

but if I meet that dread amount

I’m sure that I will croak.

At night I keep the light switched on

And lock my cupboard door

For fear of fearsome creatures

With fearful jaws and claws.

I’m scared of creatures with eight legs

And six and four and two

Which can make things quite awkward

When visiting the zoo.

I’m not too keen on travelling

By boat or car or train

And cannot even contemplate

A journey in a plane.

I even fear the phobias

That haven’t yet got names

And dread an unknown horror

I really can’t explain.

In fact, the list of things that add

To my anxiety

Is pretty much unlimited

As far as I can see.

But worse beards or snakes or heights

Or noises in the dark

Is the thought that I might have to teach

The kids at Castle Park.