Dark and frightful is the night,
as we trod along without much light.
Only the veiled moon dost reveal
the truth, but we needst not see
to know and prove.
An odor of death hangs heavy in
the air, as we creep on with senses
sharp enough to split a hair.
A quick sound from that ditch makes
it proper to proclaim the season of the witch.
This is it! looks like we are done!
False alarm…just a fluffy bunny…on the
run.