“The candles are lighted,
The hearthstones are swept,
The crackling fires burn red;
When midnight is striking,
With prayers for good luck,
Our mystic charms shall be said.”

“No time is this for tear or sob,
Or other woes our joys to rob;
But time for Pippin and for Bob,
And Jack-o’-Lanterns gay.”

“’Tis night when Goblin, Elf and Fay,
Come dancing in their best array,
To prank and royster on the way,
And comfort troubled souls.”

“Hark! Hark to the wind!
‘Tis the night, legends say,
When the souls come back
From the far away,
The dead, forgotten this
Many a day.”

“It’s a weel keen’d that they that are born on Hallowe’en
shall see mair than ither folk.”

“This is the nicht o’ Hallowe’en,
When all the witches may be seen;
Some o’ them black, some o’ them green,
Some o’ them like a turkey bean.”

“Just at the mirk and midnight hour
The fairy folk will ride,
And they that wad their true love see,
At Miles Cross they maun abide.”

“A thorn, or a burr
The witch takes for a spur,
With a lash of the bramble she rides,
Through brake and through briers,
Through ditches and mires,
Far away, where her fancy guides.”

“I tell ye that, this very hour,
Had but your sight a spirit’s power,
Ye would be looking, eye to eye
At a terrific company.”

“Pixie, goblin, elf and sprite,
All are on their rounds tonight;
In the wan moon’s silver ray
With gay abandon skip and play.”

“Come forth and join the pleasure throng;
Forget your sorrow and your wrong,
In one glad hour of joyous song
To honor Hallowe’en!”

“A gypsy fire is on the hearth,
Sign of the carnival of mirth;
Through the dun fields and from the glade
Flash merry folk in masquerade,
For this is Hallowe’en!”

“Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder’s fork, and blindworm’s sting,
Lizard’s leg, and owlet’s wing—
These the witches brew.

“The beacon’s light shines on the hill,
The will-o’-wisps the forests fill;
And witches on their broomsticks spry,
Speed here and yonder in the sky,
This fateful Hallowe’en.”

“On Hallowe’en seek a walnut tree,
That ye your true love’s face may see;
Three times call, three times walk apace,
Then shall ye see your true love’s face.”

“The bat makes rounds on swooping wings,
The owl its woeful dirges sings.”

“Ye may think that without,
The winds shrilly shout,
But ‘tis Hallowe’en spirits at play.”

Vintage bat illustration from an antique postcard in our collection.

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