'Tis from the hollow, mists arise
To drift beneath the autumn skies,
To usher in a dark surprise -
The night of righteousness' demise.
Upon the rising moon they spread,
Like shrouds upon the waking dead,
The trappings of a silver bed,
From which all evil things are bred.
When wind blows through the barren trees,
There spreading as some foul disease,
There piping fearful melodies
Of never-ending tragedies,
When mischief-laden fingers snatch
The pumpkins frosted in the patch,
And in them fires of brimstone light,
And make the souls of darkness bright,
When ghouls awaken in their graves,
When vampires burst forth from their staves,
When fleshless bones arise to war,
And venture from perdition's store,
When banshees howl out from the mire,
When werewolves sing their wicked choir,
When ghostly rites all souls inspire,
And magic sets the moon on fire,
When wake the monsters yet untold,
When zombies march the open road,
When demons lurk beyond the gate,
And darkness holds a dreadful fate,
Then know the night of doom is here,
The dawn of everlasting fear,
The opening of an evil door -
All Hallow's Eve has come once more.
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