Look and they Can't be found Playing their Presence down Listen they make No sound Look and they go To ground You may wake To find Your coffee cup Is empity And the tray You left Is not bedside The door You are sure you Had another Hidden carton When you look For it It's not there Anymore Inky bloaters! They're a Consequence of Never being sure Look and they Can't be found Playing their Presence down Listen they make No sound Look and they go To ground And the pencil That you had Has now gone Missing You could swear You had it Just the other day All the things That make your Little life Run smoothly When you search They've all just Gone away Inky bloaters! They're a Consequence of Never being sure