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.