Here's the right words. It's from a poem by violet Jacob. It's a beautiful poem too

Hallowe'en

    THE tattie-liftin's nearly through,
    They're ploughin' whaur the barley grew,
       And aifter dark, roond ilka stack,
       Ye'11 see the horsemen stand an' crack
    Lachlan, but I mind o' you !

    1 mind foo often we hae seen
    Ten thoosand stars keek doon atween
       The nakit branches, an' below
       Baith fairm an' bothie hae their show,
    Alowe wi' lichts o' Hallowe'en.

    There's bairns wi' guizards* at their tail          [Mummers who go door-to-door]
    Clourin' the doors wi' runts o' kail*,          [celery stalks]
       And fine ye' 11 hear the skreichs an' skirls
       O' lassies wi' their droukit curls
    Bobbin' for aipples i' the pail.

    The bothie fire is loupin' het,
    A new heid horseman's kist is set
       Richts o' the lum; whaur by the blaze
       The auld ane stude that kept yer claes--
    I canna thole to see it yet!

    But gin the auld fowks' tales are richt
    An ghaists come hame on Hallow nicht,
       O freend o' freends! what wad I gie
       To feel ye rax yer hand to me
    Atween the dark an' caun'le licht?

    Awa in France, across the wave,
    The wee lichts burn on ilka grave,
       An' you an' me their lowe hae seen--
       Ye'11 mebbe hae yer Hallowe'en
    Yont, whaur ye're lyin' wi' the lave.

    There's drink an' damn', sang an' dance
    And ploys and kisses get their chance,
       But Lachlan, man, the place I see
       Is whaur the auld kist used to be
    And the lichts o' Hallowe'en in France!

       Violet Jacob