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THE WICKED OLD WITCH By Heather (c)1999 The wicked old witch Sat on her broom Across the sky Over the moon **** The wicked old vampire Drank some blood Poor old woman That is no good **** The wicked old ghost Scared some people Flew around the churchyard And over the steeple **** The wicked old devil Lured people to his lair Don't go down there Unless you dare **** The wicked old monster Walked into a few hundred walls Killed some people In their halls. THE WITCH by Jack Prelutsky She comes by night, in fearsome flight, In garments black as pitch, the queen of doom upon her broom, the wild and wicked witch, **** a crackling crone with brittle bones and dessicated limbs, two evil eyes with warts and sties and bags about the rims, **** a dangling nose, ten twisted toes and fold of shriveled skin, cracked and chipped and crackled lips that frame a toothless grin. **** She hurtles by, she sweeps the sky and hurls a piercing screech. As she swoops past, a spell is cast on all her curses reach. **** Take care to hide when the wild witch rides to shriek her evil spell. What she may do with a word or two is much too grim to tell. ALL HALLOWE'EN by Pauline Clark Witch and warlock all abroad Revels keep by field and yard. **** In the firelight of the farm Boy and maiden one by one Place their chestnuts in the grate And for omens quietly wait; To a string their apples tie, Twirl them till they fallen lie; Those whose fruits fall in a hurry, They shall be the first to marry. **** Witch and warlock all abroad Revels keep by field and yard. **** Apples from the beam hang down To be caught by mouth alone, Mugs of ale on Nut-Crack Night And many a tale of ghost and sprite, Come to cheer and chill the heart, While the candles faint and start, While the flickering firelight paints Pictures of the hallowed saints. **** Witch and warlock all abroad Revels keep by field and yard. GHOSTS by Eric Maple When goblins hunt and devils roar And witches meet on blasted heath And bony hands knock on my door You'll hear the chatter of my teeth. **** When owls are hooting in the night And ravens croak from leafless trees And ghosts come howling gleaming white You'll hear the knocking of my knees. **** Of course, it's not that I'm afraid. It's just the way my bones are made. THE BIRD OF THE NIGHT by Randall Jarrell A shadow is floating through the moonlight. Its wings don't make a sound. Its claws are long, its beak is bright. Its eyes try all the corners of the night. **** It calls and calls: al the air swells and heaves And washes up and down like water. The ear that listens to the owl believes In death. The bat beneath the eaves. **** The mice beneath the stone are still as death. The owl's air washes them like water. The owl goes back and forth inside the night, And the night holds its breath. GHOSTS by Harry Behn A cold and starry darkness moans And settles wide and still Over a jumble of tumbled stones Dark on a darker hill. **** An owl among those shadowy walls, Gray against gray Of ruins and brittle weeds, calls And a soundless swoops away. **** Rustling over scattered stones Dancers hover and sway, Drifting among their own bones Like the webs of the Milky Way. |