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Grandma
Grandma got ran over by a broomstick
Walking home from our house Halloween.
Now you can say there's no such thing as witch's.
But as for me and grandpa, we believe.
She'd consumed too many spirits.
And we begged her not to go.
But she'd forgot her Belladonna,
So she sacheted out the door, we didn't know.
When they found her the next morning
At the scene of the attack.
She had bristles on her forehead,
And incriminating brush marks on her back.
Grandma got ran over by a broomstick.
Walking home from our house Halloween.
You can say there's no such thing as witch's,
But as for me and grandpa, we believe.
Now we're all so proud of grandpa.
He's been taking it so well.
See him in there watching wrestling,
Drinking wine and dancing skyclad with cousin Nell.
It's not Samhain without grandma.
She's the one with the big hat.
And we just can't help but wonder,
Should we divvy up her candy, or send it back.
Grandma got ran over by a broomstick,
Walking home from our house Halloween.
You can say there's no such thing as witch's.
But as for me and grandpa, we believe.
Now the punch is on the table,
And the pumpkin, it's so big.
And the black and silver candles
That would just have matched the hair in grandma's wig.
I've warned all my friends and neighbors,
Better watch out for yourselves.
They should never give a license,
To a gal who flies a broomstick deosil.
Grandma got ran over by a broomstick,
Walking home from our house Halloween.
You can sat there's no such thing as witch's,
But as for me and grandpa, we believe.
by Christina Aubin
Not wanting to be alone on this night, the Irish initiated the custom of going from house to house, gathering food for a community feast. This is believed to be the origin of our custom of trick-or-treating.
Bittersweet October. The mellow, messy, leaf-kicking, perfect pause between the opposing miseries of summer and winter. ~Carol Bishop Hipps
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