Pigwiggle Poem by Steve Howard

Roostus P. Pigwiggle lived in a bog.
He piggled and wiggled at night through the fog.
He creeped and he peeped at the house on the hill,
where lived Aggie, and Maggie, Old Granny,
and Bill.
He looked in the windows, he snuffed at the door,
this nasty wet thing from the
bog on the
moor.
He thumped and he bumped and he
fumbled about,
until Old Granny heard him, and
raised up a shout.
"Oh what could that be on such a cold night so damp?
I'll build up the fire, I'll turn up the lamp.".
Pigwiggle came and he beat on the door.
He beat and he banged, till his beatbanger was sore.
Old Granny was frightened of what might be in store,
but was afraid some poor soul had got lost on the moor.
So she flung the door open, then said with a grin,
"Why it's Mr. Pigwiggle, please won't you come in?
'Tis a raw bitter night, hang your cloak on a nail.
There are scones in the cupboard, and milk in the pail.".
Pigwiggle said, "Thank you Granny, that's sweet,
but I was hoping for candy.
It's Halloween!
Trick or treat! ".