The Murphy Bed

The clerk said my room was 205.
I answered:  "That's fine.  I'm tired from my drive.
I'll eat a quick bite, then turn out the lights.
I have no desire to see all the sights."

The room was tidy, though rather small;
a desk, a chair, but no bed at all.
It was then I noticed just above my head
the handles that lowered the walled Murphy Bed.

I unzipped my bag and heard a faint sound.
But I was alone, no one around.
I could only make out a word or two,
but as I listened more closely, the message came through.

"I'm trapped in this wall!  Been here since two.
Can't feel my hands.  My feet have turned blue.
Pull this thing down and help me get out.
Believe you me and have no doubt,

I'll never again try a Murphy Bed.
It's hard to sleep while on your head
when you're mashed against this concrete wall
with nowhere to go and no one to call."

When I opened it up he was on his head.
His feet were blue and his face was red.
Oh, the words that the poor man loudly said!
A helpless victim of a Murphy Bed.