‘Twas the night before school and all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, except for a louse.
The backpacks were hung, by the house door with care,
With no idea St. Nit soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While a party of ugly bugs danced on their heads.
Dad put down his phone, and I, my book,
And we crept upstairs to take a goodnight look.
When from their bedroom arose such a clatter,
As their dutiful parents saw what was the matter!
The boys were itching their heads in their sleep,
Mom started cursing, “Bleep. Bleep. Bleep!”
The moon from the window served like a light,
And Mom and Dad were scarred by the sight
Of lice on their heads, tucked behind their small ears,
A sight that reduced poor Mommy to tears.
There was no denying bugs so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it was the dreaded St. Nit!
Burn down the house or get stupid drunk?
The discovery of lice, most definitely stunk.
Off to the store for shampoos galore
And combs aplenty for what was in store.
Wash and wait for the gross bugs to die,
With each dead louse, “Bye, Felicia, bye.”
Now comb! And comb! And comb some more!
Each nit must be destroyed to even the score.
From the top of the scalp, over each little strand,
The boys calmly sitting; “be still,” my command.
I can’t stop scratching and checking my head,
Dad had more beer and went back to bed.
The rest of the family will get treatment too,
Because Mommy’s obsessed with all lice shampoo.
The mountains of laundry will never end,
For fear that re-infection will become a sick trend.
Beds stripped, pillows bagged, clothes put on a pyre,
Anybody know a nit-picker for hire?
We survived lice—barely, it seems,
Now the boys can return to sugarplum dreams.
Should St. Nit visit you and cause you to itch,
Remember the old saying, life is a b***ch.