by  John Lupton


Through the briar goblins follow,

grinning to a darkened hollow,

where within a web be spun,

of wicca wise and devildom.

To the air forces takes,

In a spiralled fury make.

Here whorl, here a flutter

… hear familiars chant and mutter

“Tis Hallow’s Eve to all beware

to bar and latch with special care”

Astride the ragwort faeries fly,

to catch the reaper on the sty,

the farmer as he bolts the gate,

the drunkard withering, dithering late.

A raven like an usher calls,

for silence from the graveyard walls

and up above a tapping hoof,

is heard upon the leaded roof.

Witches weave o’er church and tower,

wickedness to match the hour.

Hear the bells peal and rile,

in agreement with the dial.

Stirring children from their sleep,

who through the window dare to peep.

Search in every nook and cranny.

Where’s the cat?  And where is granny?