It happens on the night of halloween the night that witches
can be seen. The one and only night of the year that we like
to dress up in ghoulish gear. Kids can trick or treat before the
witching hour, then that fades into a far stronger power.
Over the moon and flying down to the ground comes many a
witch making that familiar sound. On broomstick they travel
with head held high, dressed in black as to blend in with the
Down to the coven where they sit all, around the cauldron tight
as a wall. As kindling crackles sparks fly high, it's now you'll
hear the sound of the witches cry; 'hocus pocus' cackles and
screams come the making of spells over the firelight beams.
When the spells are complete they all give a loud cheer, to
celebrate this night the only one of the year.
Old hags who's ages multiply in scores, who have been around
since the Napoleonic Wars. some of their ancestors were burnt
at the stake but that's because they made a mistake.
As dawn draws closer then back they fly over that wide
open sky. with broomstick to sit on, black cat as a mate
they bid you farewell until the next 'Halloween Date!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem