Stopping by a Graveyard on All Hallows Eve

Whose graves are these I think I know.

Their ghosts are in the village though;

They will not mind me stopping here

To watch the spirits come and go.

My big, dark horse must think it queer

To stop without a victim near

Between the village and the lake

Our only evening of the year.

He gives his long black mane a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of gusting wind and leaves that quake.

The Graveyard's lovely, dark, and deep,

But I have a curse that I must keep,

And heads to steal before I sleep,

And heads to steal before I sleep.