Autumn leaves a-tattle
'neth the blood red harvest moon.
Window panes a-rattle
at the terror coming soon.
Pumpkins with their eyes a-wide
gaze into the night.
A broomstick with it's witch a-stride
glides by in silent flight.
Bats in sky a-screeching,
while ghosts and goblins cry;
Monster arms a-reaching
out, to grab, as you walk by.
A horse, with rider head-less,
comes stomping down the street;
His eyes reflecting mad-ness
as the sparks fly from his feet.
Coffin doors are now a-swing;
The vampires are set free
to walk the streets of Hall-o-ween
but, not as fast as me.
BACK ONE PAGE FORWARD ONE PAGE HOME
