The sun goes down; the moon comes up
the undead now arise
from graveyards near and coffins far
a Halloween surprise.
All hallows’ eve begins the call
to ghostly souls long dead
come join the celebration dance
while bats fly overhead.
The witches are the first to come
their flowing dresses sheer
upon their brooms they fly along
while cackling far and near.
Then goblins with their fiendish grins
appear with mal intent
To spread their loathsome hatred
for the humans they resent.
Arrive with drooling, dripping filth
the zombies come within
They have no need to join the dance
the food’s where they begin.
Barge in the gnomes, so small and gross
and smelling horrid too
their pointed hats and shaggy beards
attest to hate they spew.
Hobgoblin’s join without request
they’re creatures no one likes
not even those whom others fear
Greet these with fair delight.
Mischievous and mean, the trolls
invite themselves to join
Their hairy forms still smell of goats
They’ve no doubt just purloined.
And now the elves, those liberal folk
who try for peace with all
are quickly shunned and shown the door
of this a monster’s ball.
The imps and ogres, beasts and freaks
all gather round to play,
to celebrate with fire and flames
a monster’s holiday.
At midnight tolls the lonely bell
that signals it’s the end
When shadows cross the starry night
They’ll gather once again.
Good night my fellow villains dear
Good night I say, farewell
We’ll gather once again next year
When midnight toll’s the bell.
Pat Tyrer is a writer and lover of literature who walks Palo Duro Canyon bird watching when the sun is up and star gazing when it’s not. She lives in Canyon, Texas with her husband Steve and her dog, Sammy.
Published 10/30/25