At last the night is here,
The night of fright and fear;
The night of Halloween,
A ghastly, ghostly scene.

As witches make their brew,
Calling on the Skeleton Crew
To, from their slumber, rise
And meet without disguise.

The moon is full and bright
To make luminous the night,
As amber flames flicker in each lit Jack
And lick the brewing pot, burning it black.

With winter's breath coming, near,
On October's night, the last this year,
The chill to the bones, not in the least,
Matters to those who have deceased.

As spirits awaken, rattling their bones,
With a chorus of their moans and groans,
Rustling Autumn leaves blanketing the ground,
A symphony commences of an eerie sound.

Distant werewolves with blood curdling howling,
Are now on the hunt, have begun their prowling.
The owls are hooting, "Who-who-who who-whooooo,
Who dares to venture out this night through?"

As the graveyard comes alive with the walking dead,
Who've been sleeping restlessly in their earthly bed,
Waiting for the celebration, an annual eventful night,
When spirits mingle, old and new, a welcomed sight.

There are stories to be told, legends to be read,
Like Sleepy Hollow, the horseman with no head.
There's news of the living that must be spread,
Like who among the living is about to join the dead?

Ah, it is a Fright Night, one that spooks the mind;
One that's to the living, an event often quite unkind.
But to the spirit world, it's a night looked forward to,
The annual congregation of the Skeleton Crew.