I was afraid to go out in the nocturn,
I was a nervous as I could be,
I was afraid to go out, the door lock turn,
I was afraid that some zombies I’d see.
The ghoul-fiend lore. . .hellish people by the score.

It was an icky-witchy creepy-dreamy Hallow ghostly-plot big-screamy
Metaphor for this cursed night foray
A sicky-witchy creepy-schemie Hallow ogre lot, big-meanies,
So from the nocturn, I wanted to stray.
Ghouls, screams, gore, wicked hounds outside the door.

I was afraid to go out where there’s throatin’
And canines clamp on the carotid’s core.
I was afraid to go out and was hopin’
That I had not bumped and caused open sores.
Boo! Scream more! Witches pounding on the door!

It was a witches-sic-me creepy-screamy Hallow ghostly lot: wish-eat-me. . .
Meant-to-gore-me, a thirst-biting fray.
A witchy-stick-me creepy-meanie sallow oafishlot zit-teemy.
Under a blanket I scampered to stay.
Boo! Screams soar! Wicked sounds upon the moor.

Cowed, I am afraid to come ’cause this lot yearns
To night-wander, gut, bite, suck, and chew.
Wow! This blanket’s frayed, and I can feel, my mop burns:
Of my brains they’re braising a ragout.
Stew, eat more. Hell! This is no metaphor!!

It was a fixin’s-is-me eatin’-feasty hollowed-out-my-pot-cerebry:
Mental forge cannot work in this way.
The dinner is me: creepy-feely. . .swallowing my thoughts, binge-mealy.
And then this lot burps, post-cranial buffet.

In the nocturn, under blanket,
Under blanket, gruesome gore,
Lunch of gore; gruesome noshers
Fressed—there isn’t any more!