When I was a child, at Halloween
I’d go out to trick or treat,
With Pam, and Sam, and Wriggly Ann
Just us in the dark, cold street,
We’d knock on the doors of folk we knew
And they’d give us a sweet, or cake,
But those who wouldn’t come to the door,
We thought they were cruel, or fake.

We’d look for a gnome, or garden tool,
We’d sneak right into their shed,
Stand up a rake, and play the fool
Stick a pumpkin there for its head,
And then we’d giggle and run away,
Go to the house next door,
And sometimes,  eating the proffered cake
We’d laugh at the neighbour’s roar.

We’d finished the street one night, and turned
To a place called Shady Lane,
It wasn’t a place we’d often go
For the folk there were insane.
They hated children, they hated pets,
We thought that they’d ate our dog,
Had lured it off on a misty night
When the town was covered in smog.

‘Let’s trick or treat the Lavorsky’s,’ said
The pipsqueak, Wriggly Ann,
‘Only if you will knock on the door
While we stand back,’ said Sam.
The house was dark, there wasn’t a light
And the Moon was hid in a cloud,
It loomed up there in the darkness like
A monster, wrapped in a shroud.

She knocked three times and we all stood back
Were getting ready to run,
With only Ann on the welcome mat
We thought he might have a gun.
The door had creaked and a hand shot out,
Grabbed Wriggly Ann by the scruff,
Then hauled her in and the door slammed shut
And Pamela screamed, took off.

I looked at Sam and he looked at me
As we both stood still, in shock,
‘Maybe they’re going to have her for tea
Like they did with our poodle, ****!’
We skirted round on the garden path
Til we came to their rustic shed,
Opened the door, and there on the floor
Was Mrs. Lavorsky, dead!

Her eyes were wide, and shone in the dark
Her jaw sagged open and slack,
Her hands in a rigor mortis claw
Were raised, as if to attack.
And Sam had screamed like a little girl
(He never could live that down),
He fainted, fell right there on his back
On Mrs. Lavorsky’s gown.

Her husband didn’t know she was dead
Til the police came round that night,
But then he left her, there in the shed
For the hearse to collect, first light.
While Wriggly Ann was safe inside
Was stuffing her face with cake,
That Mr. Lavorsky’d laid on out,
The last that his wife would bake.

David Lewis Paget