Midnight strikes its haunting bell

Townsfolk best be hidden well

Windows rattle, floorboards creak

Ghostly wail and banshee shriek

Overhead, a ghastly sight

Bat-like forms are in full flight

Hunger drives their sordid lust

For they must feed or turn to dust

Swish of broomstick cuts the air

Hear that rasping voice declare

 “Fire burn my cauldron bright

For I’ll wreak havoc here, tonight!”

Greasy air so thick with fear

Cackling laughter oh so near

“Fire, burn my cauldron red

Open graves and raise the dead!”

Dragging footsteps ‘cross the floor

Moaning, groaning at the door

Guests that no one wants to greet

Who bear the stench of rotting meat      

Death on horseback, sickle drawn

Seeks out souls that pray for dawn

Souls that fly from severed head

And join the ranks of living dead.

At last the chaos fades away

Night becomes uneasy day

Trepidation claiming all

For Halloween comes every fall.