The Late Visitor
When Bigfoot comes to your door
Late on Halloween night,
Should you his demands ignore
And not turn on your light?
Should you take this photo op
When given the rare chance?
Do you think when next he’ll stop
To give more than a glance?
Will you still have treats on hand
To sate his appetite?
Was his visit too unplanned?
You snacked too much tonight.
I’m not sure what I would do
With Bigfoot on my stoop.
I hope if it becomes true,
It’s not a family group.
Planning of Whippets
I live my life in snippets
With the focus of whippets,
Chasing rabbits around the track.
If I had a longer span
And was one to make a plan,
I’d notice the success I lack.
But keeping my goals so short
Gives me success of a sort,
Making me a contented man.
I puzzle from clue to clue,
Bites well sized for me to chew,
With no need to see the whole span.
When you need to see the end,
With in its blank, you portend
Failure before the effort began.
You may hesitate too long,
Fearing outcome will be wrong,
And you do not do things you can.
Do not fear you won’t finish
For the chances will diminish
For all projects you never start.
You also may be like me
And best achieve by degree --
Doing, not being done, is art.
Previous carols at:
Carols for Halloween
More Carols for Halloween
Trick or Treat to You
(tune: Happy Birthday to You)
Trick or Treat to You
Trick or Treat to You
Come up with the treats now,
Or we’re gonna yell boo!!!
Edgar the Scarecrow
(tune: Frosty the Snowman)
Edgar the Scarecrow was an itchy, scratchy guy
With a flannel shirt and torn blue jeans,
And feedsack with one eye.
Edgar the Scarecrow is a folklore tale, I heard.
He was full of straw, but, I was told,
He couldn’t chase a bird.
It was Halloween when he suddenly jumped down --
He could not get back up on his pole,
So instead, he went to town.
Oh, Edgar the Scarecrow, was as lost as he could be,
For the kids that day in costumed array
Looked just as strange as he.
Stumbily bump stump, bumpily bump stump,
Edgar walked so slow.
Stumbily bump stump, bumpily bump stump,
Edgar knew not where to go.
Edgar the Scarecrow lost some straw with every step.
The kids said “Come with us”, so without a bit more fuss,
After them he did schlep.
He followed them, house to house, and at each door,
Folks with surprise so loved his disguise,
They filled his bag with more.
The trail of straw behind, Edgar saw, as it grew and grew;
In only a few moments, his adventure would be through.
So Edgar the Scarecrow went back to his cornfield,
And farmers tell where his candy fell
Improved twofold that year’s yield.
Loot the Houses
(tune: Deck the Halls)
Lock the doors, get out the sherry,
Bwah ha ha, Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha!
‘Tis the season things turn scary,
Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha, bwah ha ha!
Don they now their weird apparel,
Bwah ha ha, Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha!
Tonight kids have all gone feral,
Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha, bwah ha ha!
See the begging grins before us,
Bwah ha ha, Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha!
Shut the lights, they may ignore us,
Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha, bwah ha ha!
“Gave to us your sweetest treasure,
Bwah ha ha, Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha!
Or you will feel our displeasure,
Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha, bwah ha ha!”
Fast they pass from door to door,
Bwah ha ha, Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha!
Bags all ready to hold more,
Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha, bwah ha ha!
They will come in any weather,
Bwah ha ha, Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha!
On Halloween they loot together,
Bwah ha ha, ha ha ha, Bwah Ha Ha!
Twelve Hours of Halloween
(tune: Twelve Days of Christmas)
In the first hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
A toddler as a pumpkin.
In the second hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
Twins dressed as mice
And a toddler as a pumpkin.
In the third hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
Three blue smurfs, twins dressed as mice
And a toddler as a pumpkin.
In the fourth hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
Four cawing crows, three blue smurfs, twins dressed as mice
And a toddler as a pumpkin.
In the fifth hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
Five superheroes.
Four cawing crows, three blue smurfs, twins dressed as mice
And a toddler as a pumpkin.
In the sixth hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
Six ghosts a-booing,
Five superheroes.
Four cawing crows, three blue smurfs, twins dressed as mice
And a toddler as a pumpkin.
In the seventh hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
Seven spooks a-wailing, six ghosts a-booing,
Five superheroes.
Four cawing crows, three blue smurfs, twins dressed as mice
And a toddler as a pumpkin.
In the eighth hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
Eight fairies dancing, seven spooks a-wailing,
six ghosts a-booing,
Five superheroes.
Four cawing crows, three blue smurfs, twins dressed as mice
And a toddler as a pumpkin.
In the ninth hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
Nine witches brewing, eight fairies dancing,
seven spooks a-wailing, six ghosts a-booing,
Five superheroes.
Four cawing crows, three blue smurfs, twins dressed as mice
And a toddler as a pumpkin.
In the tenth hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
Ten creeps a-creeping, nine witches brewing,
eight fairies dancing, seven spooks a-wailing,
six ghosts a-booing,
Five superheroes.
Four cawing crows, three blue smurfs, twins dressed as mice
And a toddler as a pumpkin.
In the eleventh hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
Eleven teen girls giggling, ten creeps a-creeping,
nine witches brewing, eight fairies dancing,
seven spooks a-wailing, six ghosts a-booing,
Five superheroes.
Four cawing crows, three blue smurfs, twins dressed as mice
And a toddler as a pumpkin.
In the twelfth hour of Halloween, my neighbors sent to me
Twelve teen boys bumming, eleven teen girls giggling,
ten creeps a-creeping, nine witches brewing,
eight fairies dancing, seven spooks a-wailing,
six ghosts a-booing,
Five superheroes.
Four cawing crows, three blue smurfs, twins dressed as mice
And a toddler as a pumpkin.
(International) Skeptics Day?
Do you believe in Skeptics Day?
It may be today -- I’m not sure.
It’s on the thirteenth, so they say,
October, January. More?
Any time it falls on a Friday?
Such limits I do not care for.
Some also add Election Day --
Believing it is quite a chore.
Can they prove whatever they say
Or must they still show you more?
Where are the facts for you to weigh
And the theories yet to explore?
It is not proof the other way
To ask why of the common lores.
No answer yet does not hold sway
Even when the belief is yours.
GPS Exhortation
(tune: I Will Follow Him
(Pourcel & Muiriat, 1961,
Sung by Peggy March (1963) and
in Sister Act (1992)))
Use me, Please use me, Please use me
And where I show, you follow, you follow, you follow
You should follow me
Follow me wherever I may show
There isn’t a road trip too long
An address so lost I cannot find a way
You should follow me (follow me)
Ever since you touched my pad I knew
That with me you always ought be
And nothing is better than me
I know your destiny (destiny)
Please use me. please use me, please use me
And where I say you follow, you follow, you follow
I’ll always tell you true routes, tell true routes, tell true routes
From here to wherever, wherever, wherever
You should follow me (follow me)
Follow me wherever you may go
There may be other ways there
They are many ways you might err, err the wrong way
You should turn around (u-turn here, u-turn here, u-turn here)
Please use me. please use me, please use me
And where I say you follow, you follow, you follow
I’ll always tell you true routes, tell true routes, tell true routes
From here to wherever, wherever, wherever
You should follow me
Follow me wherever I may show
There isn’t a road trip too long
An address so lost I cannot find a way
And where I say, please follow, please follow, please follow
You know I’ll always guide you, I’ll guide you, I’ll guide you
And where I say, please follow, please follow, please follow
You know I’ll always guide you, I’ll guide you, I’ll guide you
And where I say, please follow
Edgar Allan Poe
(on the anniversary of his death)
It was many and many a year gone by,
More than a century ago,
That a poet then lived whom was known by
The name of Edgar Allan Poe;
And this poet he lived with fanciful thoughts
Of lost love and where it did go.
I was a child and he was well chilled
In his graveyard long ago,
But I thrilled with a thrill almost as chill
As words by Edgar Allan Poe.
With the skill that Calliope had instilled,
Tingles would through me flow.
This may be the reason, way back then,
In my bedroom so long ago,
With pen and paper in privacy,
I aped Edgar Allan Poe;
So I hid my poetry away
And thought none would ever know,
Of my shallow flights of fantasy
Where my dreams often go.
The angels, too bored in Heaven above,
Envied the talented Poe --
Yes! -- that is the reason (as we now see
In a life so filled with woe)
That nightmares came out of his dreams at night,
Plaguing and breaking Edgar Allan Poe.
But his voice it was stronger by far than the voice
Of those who lived longer than he --
Of many more clever than me --
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons way down deep below
Can ever endeavor to take the wonders
Of the fantastic Edgar Allan Poe.
For the pages ever turn lighting the tales to burn
Of the fantastic Edgar Allan Poe.
And the bells ever peal, but the pulse we feel
Of the fantastic Edgar Allan Poe.
And so, I may tonight, by my screen’s glowing light,
From my mentor -- my fair Poe - get a chilling fright,
In his legacy there in the glow
In the depth of Death’s lasting shadow.
I Don’t Want to Call the World a Liar
(tune: I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire
(Benjamin, Durham, Marcus, and Seilor, 1938))
I don’t really care who’s in power
When I tune in the nightly news hour.
For the facts is what I seek
But what I hear makes me shriek.
“I don’t want to call the world a liar;
I just want to hear that something is true!
In my head, I am in a crossfire --
Whatever they say is denied by you!”
I’ve lost my dreams for worldly unity;
I just want a little peace in my life.
If you agree, I might have some sanity
And I won’t need to scream at the strife,
“I don’t want to call the world a liar;
Just say something you all think is true!”
