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Hallowe’en

It’s Halloween, [or Halowe’en*] the thirty first of October
The day perhaps when a witch knows that warlocks will disrobe her
And naughty little pranksters with their eyes upon your bumpkins
Come trick or treating round your house and may well feel your pumpkins
 
There’ll be bonfires, there’ll be hauntings there’ll be ghosts and there’ll be spooks
There’ll be toffee apples, barbecues and a surfeit of male cooks
And the chance to get out dusters and the occasional new broom
On which to have a clean sweep and  a nice ride and a zoom
 
The Pagans, Celts invented it and they called it Samhain
They danced and sang in wode and ash and usually in the rain
The Irish and the British and the Welsh lads and the Scots
Who [when asked if they liked their feast] said ‘thank you kindly - lots’
 
There’s ‘Allantide’ in Cornwall and  ‘Pooky nights’ in Ireland too
And everywhere there’s spirits, mostly Gordon’s though it’s true
And the little elves and little fairies fly around the place
And blow moondust in your hamburger and fairy dust in your face 

There’s the magic of the puca naughty spirit out to tease
And the chance to meet your ancestors all out and about to please
But sweetheart, do you know my love, what’s best and this is true?
It’s lying on the lawn and playing  fertility rights with you