You know, those evil creatures that  are determined to make your life a misery.

Oh damm, I’ve just discovered that I’ve brought the buggers here.
I thought I’d thought of everything, convinced the coast was clear.
I checked out all my cases and the clothes that went inside
Worried from that last trip that a few had hitched a ride

What on earth’s he on about? I hear you think aloud
OK I’ll admit it, but of this I’m just not proud
I have an infestation! With Pixies I’ve been cursed
Malicious little creatures who are out to do their worst

I’m sure you must have had them for there’s very few escape
One kind or another and the problems that they make
The ones that live in cupboards, and bang the pipes at night
Waiting ‘til you’re half asleep to amplify the fright

The ones that live in fridges and make the food go bad
Then sneak out and steal from your rooms the neatness they’d once had
The ones with little gecko feet for scaling to the heights
Putting dust on picture frames and popping bulbs in lights

From teaspoons that you knew you owned they’ve wire hangers wrought
For there’s hundreds in the cupboards, that you know you’ve never bought
The type that make you late for work by switching off your clocks.
The others that turn tea towels into solitary socks.

For no one washes socks alone, they start out in a pair
But when you’re late and in a rush there’s only singles there
The female pixies are as bad and here’s some things they do
Weakening the legs on tights so fingers go straight through

They hide keys in your handbag that you knew you didn’t lack
Then make you search for hours and hours before they put them back
And when you go out clubbing and he asks you for a light
They’ll put a tampon in your hand convincing you it’s right

And just before that special date as sure as eggs are eggs
They’ll put some zits upon your face and add hairs to your legs
The ones that live outdoors are  cruel and really love moist air,
Throw pixie dust upon your head that causes frizzy hair

Then striding out with head held high how stupid do you feel?
When one pops out from ‘tween the slabs to snap that kitten heel.
So which have I brought with me now? To mar this far off shore
I seem to have got several types, at least three maybe more

I know I’ve got the textile ones, it’s easy to spot those
My shirts have split seams underarms, my socks have holey toes
My boxer shorts have disappeared, I’m glad my host’s unknowing
That secretly as name suggests “Commando” I’ve been going

But this time I’ve got other ones completely new to me
Some type of techno pixie that can damage a CD
Just how can we be rid of them? I’m not sure that we can
The little help that’s offered us is from that Dyson man

So hearing, when you’re hoovering, a satisfying thud
Look carefully in the cyclone and you may see Pixie blood