The witches are flying
All around the moon
Cackling all along
And chanting a tune
The mummies are dancing
Doing the bigfoot stomp
And their rags are falling off
In great big ol clumps
The werwolves are howling
In harmony that's high pitched
They only pause long enough
To scratch their irritating itch
They all need practice, you see
It's a week before Halloween
So they practice every night
As they get ready, some sound like screams
Ghosts are floating around
Like big white balloons
All making their ways
Under the old harvest moon
The moon is getting fuller
Each and every night
And it should be a big red ball
By the time it gets Halloween night
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem