One of many fabulous photos at Dan Felstead's site.
On the night called Hallowed Eve.
At the end of October, late at night,
The spirits of the dead arise in flight.
Howling like banshees under a curse, a curse,
On the night called Hallowed Eve.
Ghosts come out, inviting our stares
As they rattle chains and shimmer on stairs.
No wind has the power to make them disperse, disperse,
On the night called Hallowed Eve.
And the vampires are there, as you would think,
They're flying around in search of a drink.
They've been dead a while and have quite a thirst, a thirst,
On the night called Hallowed Eve.
Like bundles of laundry, they rise from the tombs
And lumber along dodging witches on brooms.
No mistaking these mummies for a wet nurse, wet nurse,
On the night called Hallowed Eve.
They fly on brooms with scungy cats
Dragging behind a trail of black bats
The ones with red eyes are considered the worst, the worst,
On the night called Hallowed Eve.
And then, of course, come the walking dead,
They can walk through walls, or so it is said,
The zombies are just bodies in search of a hearse, a hearse,
On the night called Hallowed Eve.
The night is filled with so much commotion,
Of ghouls and ghosts, of spells and potions.
Inside we're eating food 'til we burst, we burst,
On the night called Hallowed Eve.
---
© J Cosmo Newbery
---
On the night called Hallowed Eve.
At the end of October, late at night,
The spirits of the dead arise in flight.
Howling like banshees under a curse, a curse,
On the night called Hallowed Eve.
Ghosts come out, inviting our stares
As they rattle chains and shimmer on stairs.
No wind has the power to make them disperse, disperse,
On the night called Hallowed Eve.
And the vampires are there, as you would think,
They're flying around in search of a drink.
They've been dead a while and have quite a thirst, a thirst,
On the night called Hallowed Eve.
Like bundles of laundry, they rise from the tombs
And lumber along dodging witches on brooms.
No mistaking these mummies for a wet nurse, wet nurse,
On the night called Hallowed Eve.
They fly on brooms with scungy cats
Dragging behind a trail of black bats
The ones with red eyes are considered the worst, the worst,
On the night called Hallowed Eve.
And then, of course, come the walking dead,
They can walk through walls, or so it is said,
The zombies are just bodies in search of a hearse, a hearse,
On the night called Hallowed Eve.
The night is filled with so much commotion,
Of ghouls and ghosts, of spells and potions.
Inside we're eating food 'til we burst, we burst,
On the night called Hallowed Eve.
---
© J Cosmo Newbery
---