Halloween Humbug

 

 

Yes, I’m the Halloween Humbug, that’s me;

And I hate giving my candy away free!

After all, what’s in it for me,

The Halloween Humbug?

So come Halloween night

I lock the door tight,

Turn out every light,

And keep well out of sight

—Just in case some polite

Little hobgoblins might

Want to give me a fright

With their big appetite

—Though I did not invite

Their minuscule height

(As their voices unite)

To sweetly recite

Every syllable quite

So disarmingly right

So as to incite

When they mean to excite

(Though the difference is slight

It behooves me to write

That it’s best to recite

Things in plain black and white).

Yet, not one little mite

(Though they know I am right)

Is the least bit contrite

—Oh, it’s too impolite!

And so, just for spite,

I won’t give them one bite

Of my hallowed Halloween candy;

’Cause I’m the Halloween Humbug, see,

And I hate giving my stuff away free!

After all, what’s in it for me,

The Halloween Humbug?

 

Why, if I were to give each small hand a treat

That came begging to me from off a dark street

On two little tender white hobnobbing feet,

Why, it wouldn’t be long before they’d deplete

Me of my every candy and precious sweetmeat

—And then what would I, a poor humbug, sore eat

To give me some vestige of bodily heat?

Cracked wheat?

Bah! what a cheat!

The truth is, I’d soon be all bones and no meat,

With not so much as a tattered old sheet

To wrap up my bones against ice, snow, and sleet,

Till even my memory would soon be effete;

And cold moments later, be quite obsolete

—And not so much as a Paid! receipt

For this sad little bleat

We call Life.

—And all because I got up from my seat

When I still had two bowlsful of candy to eat,

And unlocked my door to that first Trick or treat!

(Which they use not so much to greet as to cheat)

And grinned through my teeth at their childish deceit

—And not so much as a Paid! receipt

For the loss of a sweet

—For my own defeat!

Oh, what a conceit

Is this sad little bleat

We call Life.

 

But, hah! that’s a good one: my bones with no meat!

—At least as a skeleton I could compete!

At least, as a beast with no meat on my bones

I could sing Trick or treat! in such sweet skeletones

On my way to Life’s—Humbug!—eternal unknowns.

 

—Bah! demons and phantoms and spectres and spooks;

Old vampires and phantasmagorical kooks;

Bah! good witches, bad witches, ghosties and ghouls;

Cold sand witches made up by silly old fools

—Yes, fools eating up silly Halloween’s rules!

 

Which is why I’m the Halloween Humbug;

And why all my feelings lie perfectly smug.

So I never give dear little children a hug

For fear that some something might give me a tug

And pull something saline from out of the jug

That’s accustomed to lying so perfectly snug

So deep in the eyes that lie deep in the mug

Of the Halloween Humbug

—Yes, pull out the plug

—Which would pull the rug

Right out from under the feet of the smug

Old Halloween Humbug;

So all I can do is sigh with a shrug,

One foot in my grave that is already dug

—I might just as well have been born a slug

As be teated so ill by a costumed thug.

         

But Shhhh!…be as still as a toad on a stool;

Be as quiet as thread on a soft velvet spool;

Be as hard to see as a genie’s gene pool;

Be as small as a mole on a mole’s molecule…

—They’re here! outside—in the vestibule:

Those sweet little voices so lately from school

—Shhh!…be quiet! stay hidden! don’t move!—stay cool!

Don’t think about candy—you’re a shoo-in to drool!

But, above all, remember the Humbug Rule:

Don’t answer the door you silly old fool!

Oh, listen, just listen to the dear little feet

Oh, listen, just listen…how pure and how sweet

Are the high lilting notes of that first Trick or treat!

Oh, surely, yes, surely I’ve too much to eat!

Shut up! Shut up! you silly old mule!

Can’t you see common sense is a worthless old tool?

You must harden your heart for the coming Yule

—And practice makes perfect the perfect old fool!

So, for God’s sake, remember the Humbug Rule:

Don’t open the door, you silly old fool!

Oh, dear! oh, dear! it’s simply too cruel!

Shut up! Shut up! you spineless old ghoul!

Would you rather eat candy—or candyless gruel?!

 

Too late! too late! ohh, God, it’s too late!

—May a thousand ills fall on your silly old pate!

For the door lies ajar now—and there they await…

Dear Lord, every year it’s the same old fate!

 

Ho ho! look at you!…are you little Snow White?

Why, you look like a perfect young angel tonight!

And are you the devil, all dressed up in red,

With such darling horns coming out of your head?

And you, precious light, in your pretty pink dress,

Oh, I see, yes, I see—you’re a pretty princess!

Arrr, Arrr, little matey, har hardy har hee

Here’s hopin’ it’s pity ye’re takin’ on me!

By the blue in your beard—and the sha-a-a-ke in my knee

Arrr, it must be cold-blooded old…Bluebeard ye be!

 

Ah, children of gingerbread, sweetness and grace;

Goslings of gossamer, satin and lace;

Fledglings of fantasied, frighten-me face;

Wee scare-me-to-deaths of the mummery race;

Dear! munchkins of make-believe; mock populace,

Here’s a candied apple for each and for all

—But take two, three for…like you, they’re so small!

Only, stay but a moment more…God’s night is young;

Oh, stay while this sweetness lies sweet on my tongue!….

 

Oh, I know, yes, I know,

You must go…you must go;

All rivers must flow…

It is so, it is so…. 

 

Good night! Good night!

Sweet children, good night!

So brief, so brief was your costumed delight,

For the darkness has swallowed your…sweetness

From… sight.

 

Dear God, is there rain in thy heavenly sphere?

What effusion so warm on my cheek does appear? 

Bah, it is nothing—it is only a tear:

Such a warm…and a sweet little nothing…to fear

—But don’t you kids bother coming back next year!

Shhh! be careful, be careful for still they might hear

—Because the door will be locked—and I won’t be here!

And harsh words do so wound a tender young ear

—And the lights will be out till morning draws near!

And darkness does so wound an old crotcheteer

—And I nor my tears shall ever appear!

And tears do so wound a cynical sneer

—And I’ll eat my candy till it comes out my ear!

And candy does so wound a silly old ear

—And I’ll make it last me the whole lone—the year!

’Cause I’m the Halloween Humbug—that’s me

 

…And I hate! giving my heart away free.