Autumn Ghost Sounds

When the moon rides high,
up overhead—
and I am snug and warm,
in bed—
in the autumn dark
the ghosts move ’round,
making their mournful,
moaning sound.

I listen to know
when the ghosts go by.
I hear a wail,
and I hear a sigh.

But I can’t quite tell
which I hear the most—
the wind,
or the wail
of some passing ghost.

—Author Unknown

Halloween

Witches flying past on broomsticks,
Black cats leaping here and there,
White-robed spooks on every corner,
Mournful moaning in the air,
Goblins peering out of windows,
Spirit-things that rap and run—
But don’t be scared—it’s just October,
Having one last hour of fun!

—Mary Jane Carr

The Skeleton Walks

Right after our Thanksgiving feast
Our turkey’s bones went hobblin’
To Joan the wicked witch’s house
To be her turkey goblin.

—X. J. Kennedy

The Witch in the Wintry Wood

This is the story of timid Tim
who thought that witches went after him
when the night was dark and the moon was dim.
 Woo-HOO, woo-HOO, woo-HOO.

This is the tale of how Tim one night
didn’t start home until candlelight
when the sky was black and the snow was white.
 Woo-HOO, woo-HOO, woo-HOO.

He walked through the woods like a frightened goat,
his muffler twisted around his throat,
expecting to jump at a witch’s note:
 “Woo-HOO, woo-HOO, woo-HOO.”

Out of the night came a sheep dog’s yowl,
which Tim was sure was a witch’s howl,
a terrible witch on a wintry prowl.
 Woo-HOO, woo-HOO, woo-HOO.

Tim, the timid, began to race,
certain he sighted a witch’s face
back of each shadowy hiding place.
 Woo-HOO, woo-HOO, woo-HOO.

He ran through the woods on his lonely trek
till horrors! a hand went round his neck,
holding his headlong flight in check.
 Woo-HOO, woo-HOO, woo-HOO.

Around his throat went a witch’s hand
that jerked poor Tim to a sudden stand.
His heart was water, his legs were sand!
 Woo-HOO, woo-HOO, woo-HOO.

Nobody knows how long he stood
with that hand on his throat in the silent wood
until he could find some hardihood ...
 Woo-HOO, woo-HOO, woo-HOO.

Then he looked around like a shaky calf,
thinking of words for his epitaph,
and “Oh, ho, ho!” he began to laugh ...
 Woo-HOO, woo-HOO, woo-HOO.

For what he saw was a funny sight—
it wasn’t a witch at his throat by night,
but a pine branch pulling his muffler tight!
 Woo-HOO, woo-HOO, woo-HOO.

The more Tim chuckled, the more he thought
how most of his fears were like mufflers caught
and stretched much tighter than mufflers ought.
 Woo-HOO, woo-HOO, woo-HOO.

And the end of this story of timid Tim
is—nevermore, when the night was dim,
did he fear that witches were after him!
 Woo-HOO, woo-HOO, woo-HOO.

—Aileen Fisher