The Ghost of Halloween Past

Halloween’s a coming
Little kids with bags
Dressed like tiny mummies, scary ghosts and hags
Coming to my darkened door, to beg a treat or two
Hear them holler “Trick or Treat” Oh, what is one to do

Aren’t they precious darlings
Aint they lovely brats
Some of them in pirate clothes, some in witch’s hats
Even though my lights are out, they still know I’m in
They watch me coming home from work before this crap begins

Oh, I recall the ‘good old days’
We didn’t beg for treats
We tipped over outhouses, up and down the street
Rolling tires from high hills to traffic just below
Setting fire to pigeon tails to see how far they’d go

We would wait until the midnight hour
When all was quiet and calm
Then grace our sleeping neighbor’s porch, with lit manure bombs
Potatoes crammed up tailpipes, remains close to my heart
Seeing people cuss next day, “the damned old thing won’t start!”

Tying cats together,
To see if they would fight
Calling up the preacher in the middle of the night
Throwing eggs at windows, stolen from a chicken shack
Plugging up a chimney using tons of gunny sacks


The town would show free movies
Every Halloween
To keep the bad kids off the street, keep them from being mean
And in that dark theatre, we would make out with the chicks
And swap ideas and cigarettes and head out for more tricks

Then the memories fade away
There’s banging at my door
I peep from the blinds, and see a dozen kids or more
I soak the little hoodlems with a bucket I had hid
Why can’t Halloween be fun like when I was a kid