isten, my goblins, gather 'round, come near,
I'll tell you a tale that will curl your ear.
There is an old house up on Haunted Hill,
It's a hundred years old but standing still.
I went there once on a Halloween night
When the moon and stars were vanished from sight.
I went on a dare by my friends who said,
"Whoever trespasses will come back dead."
Being a bold and fearless sort, said I,
"If I don't live, you can spit in my eye."

So I started out when the wind was still,
On the treacherous path to Haunted Hill.
The vines were atrocious, the foliage thick,
I thought to myself I'd better be quick.
I hastened my gait and came face to face
With that dark and dreadfully dismal place.
The door was open and I tiptoed in,
Then I felt a rush of adrenalin,
Because the door creaked shut and locked up tight
As I pulled and tugged with all of my might.

To the windows I sprang and found them stuck
With a mixture of green and gooey yuck.
All of a sudden I heard chains clanging
And saw six bods from the ceiling hanging.
I crouched low behind a spider-webbed box,
Trembling and shaking clean down to my socks.
A sharp-toothed creature came flying at me,
And I knew that bat was out to get me.
He flapped flexible wings and I saw red
When that furry mammal perched on my head.

It didn't take me long to make a vow
I'd make my exit but I wasn't sure how,
'Cause on the stairway I could plainly see
A group of ghosts gliding straight toward me,
With chains in one hand, axes in the other;
I knew it was time I ran for cover.
Well, ghouls and goblins, my story now ends,
How I escaped I never told my friends --
Now ain't that one ghastly spit in the eye?
But I'm living proof that I did not die.

My wee munchkins, get your minds a-working,
For therein you'll find the answer lurking...

Copyright 1993 Ruth Gillis

First published (slightly different version) in Feelings, Fall 1993

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