Halloween’s here, as I sit with a beer
and pretend that it’s all superstition,
but it’s clearly much more, as I peek out the door
and see a strange apparition.
A ghoul or a ghost, a phantom maybe
or just my imagination.
Now is it my brain, for here comes a train,
yet there isn’t a railway station?
I go back inside, but it isn’t to hide,
for I’ll ignore what I think I just saw.
The chill and the damp and the ghost and the train,
which you might think a little bit risky,
but I’ll hold off these demons until the dawn breaks,
armed only with a bottle of whisky.