by Nick Bridwell (Customer Service)

writing as

Count Aloysius Darkheart, PhD


I’ve never seen a ghost or ghoul

or goblin brown or green

go hungry on the crazy night

that we call Halloween.


There is a bold conspiracy

among the wicked dead

to wander about eerily

in costume, toe to head.


The only promise that they keep

while freely roaming ‘round the town

is not to fill up fast on sweets

until they gulp the last child down.


The vampire dresses like a mummy,

wrapped up tight in cut out sheets.

The werewolf rubs his hungry tummy,

he’s quite a hobbit with his hairy feet.


And when they fetch a kid or two

to snack on between porches

they give their backs a pat, it’s true

for not drawing the village torches.


The ghosts they have the greatest fun

for they take not a thing for granite.

They possess the souls of children;

every Tom, Dick, Jean and Janet.


The kids who aren’t gobbled up

by these ethereal heathens

go back home fat and tough,

now hollowed out by demons.


And those that are consumed

as if upon a family feast

Are represented hitherto

by spectres; oh such awful beasts!


And when October says goodbye

and November rolls around

You can bet the cemetery,

you will not spot a demon in town.


Those devils have all gone to ground

back into their hellish homes.

They will not make a scary sound.

Not in the streets or in the homes.


Those evil beasts have had their fun

Enough to last the whole year through

Now that evil deeds are done

They need nothing more of you.


But know this now, I swear it

the ghouls are all around.

The truth is that their appetite

each year takes every child in town.


For I’ve never seen a ghost or ghoul

or goblin brown or green

go hungry on the wicked night

that we call Halloween.

The End