Well, 2011 was a riot. Or rather, a series of riots, punctuated by global economic meltdown and the growing realisation that England has a dark underclass. Against a backdrop of burning cities, violence and looting, the prospect of trick or treating hoodies roaming the streets at Halloween sounds less than reassuring. So we kept that year's funny Halloween poems deliberately light, fluffy and non-frightening.
I wear a funny wig
My sister has a mask
We are well disguised
To go about our task
To have fun with our friends
Collecting Candy to eat
As we terrorise the neighbours
As we go “trick or treat”
On Halloween, all hallows eve
Ghosts and ghouls come out
But not to do their evil work
They just want to stroll about
They can mix with the living
At this one time of the year
And not be discovered
Or cause screams of fear
They just mingle with fleshies
All through Halloween night
Enjoying the company
But are gone by first light
I woke up to a funny noise, it went scrape, scrapity, scrape,
It did not sound like flesh or foul, like halibut or hake,
It was the ghost of Long Tom Mouse, a phantom rodent dark,
Who’s haunted every bungalow, from here to Duthie Park.
Some say he met a grisly end at the paws of an old tom cat,
While others say a carving knife sliced him here upon this mat,
But never mind, we have no time for hairy, scary, talks,
His spirit now it is abroad, he creeps, he creaks, he walks!
And on a silver moonlight night when owls do hoot and cry,
Please turn your face o’er to the wall as old Long Tom goes by,
Be sure to leave some cheese and curds, some token of respect,
Or else he’ll haunt your skirting boards when e’re you least suspect!
On her broomstick she swoops
And into her arms she scoops
A poor unsuspecting young man
Because as a witch she can
And carries him off through the night
Then uses him for her delight
In the light of the cauldrons fire
She indulges her every desire
There is a witch of whom I’m fond
Who could carry me off beyond
And we’d do magic with my wand
We would quaff her special brew
Fly on a broomstick made for two
And do things naughty witches do
But alas our special tandem flight
Full of wicked and delicious delight
Is but a dream I dream each night