What beneath the couch resides? Among dust bunnies and things that hide? Where things are lost and then forgot, And sometimes left there to rot. It starts to sing when light grows dim, and waits for you to play with him. When you come close, a growl it sings, And if you touch, it just might scream. But if you wish your lost to find, And on it you a light will shine. Its song goes quiet as a mouse, Your musical friend under the couch.