Subject: Lyr Add: HALLOWS EVE (Lisa Theriot) From: GUEST Date: 15 Oct 20 - 01:55 AM HALLOW'S EVE As recorded by Lisa Theriot on "A Turning of Seasons," 2001.
On Hallow's Eve, on moonlit night, |
Subject: Midnight, the Time of the Crime.... From: Joe Offer Date: 28 Oct 20 - 07:23 PM Monique shared this one with me, and I hope she doesn't mind my passing it on to you: Monique from France taught me this one. She used to say it to her 1st grade students and they would ask her to say it again (even years later). It’s slightly scary, but has a funny ending. I translated it into English. It would work translated into other languages too. It could be a fun one to recite to your kids or students at Halloween time. Below you’ll find it in English, with a recording I did for you so you can hear how to recite it. Beneath that you can read it in French and also hear Monique of Mama Lisa’s World en français reciting it for you in French. In a scary voice say: Midnight, the time of the crime, Then nonchalantly say: Spreads butter on Here it is in French: Minuit, l’heure du crime… Many thanks to Monique for sharing this “poem” with us! -Mama Lisa |
Subject: ADD: Away Ye Merry Lasses From: Joe Offer Date: 28 Oct 20 - 10:12 PM This one could probably use some refinement. Thread #103480 Message #2109714 Posted By: frogprince 23-Jul-07 - 09:53 PM Thread Name: BS: Secrets of Witchcraft Subject: RE: BS: Secrets of Witchcraft
Away Ye Merry Lasses If you have Spotify, you can hear the song here: https://open.spotify.com/track/5pv8bLrX7qSCUFVYRZEXS1?si=SQRjv3LfS7aFEJJIEdxRoA |
Subject: RE: halloween songs From: Joe Offer Date: 30 Oct 20 - 08:01 PM A little Halloween music from my local symphomy in Auburn, California: |
Subject: RE: halloween songs From: GUEST,Shontell Date: 08 Jun 22 - 11:05 PM Does anyone know a childhood song that goes:
Watching witches in their flight. Ghastly ghouls are everywhere. Giving you a great big scare. See the Jack o lanterns light. Lighting up the frightful sight. Ghastly ghouls are all around. Listen to the spooky sound. I can’t remember the name of it. |
Subject: Lyr Add: AULD DUNROD From: Jim Dixon Date: 23 Dec 22 - 11:00 AM This song was quoted by Gutcher on 28 Oct 2013: From Lives of the Lindsays; Or, A Memoir of the Houses of Crawford and Balcarres, Vol. 2, by Lord Lindsay [Alexander William Crawford], (London: John Murray, 1858), p. 454: AULD DUNROD Auld Dunrod was a goustie[1] carle, As ever ye micht see; And gin he was na a warlock wicht, There was nane in the haill countrie. Auld Dunrod stack in a pin (A bourtree pin)[2] in the wa’, And when he wanted his neighbour’s milk, He just gied the pin a thraw. He milkit the Laird o’ Kellie’s[3] kye, And a’ the kye in Dunoon; And Auld Dunrod gat far mair milk Than wad mak a gabbart soum.[4] The cheese he made were numerous, And wonerous[5] to descry; For they kyth’t as gin they had been grule,[6] Or peats set up to dry. And there was nae cumerwald[7] man about, Wha cam to him for skill, That gif he didna do him good, He didna do him ill. But the Session gat word o’ Dunrod’s tricks, And they tuik him in han’, And there was naething to do but Auld Dunrod Forsooth maun leave the lan’. Sae Auld Dunrod he muntit[8] his stick, His broomstick muntit he; And he flychterit[9] twa three times about, Syne through the air did flee. And he flew by auld Greenock tower, And by the Newark haw,— Ye wadna kenn’d him in his flicht Be a huddock[10] or a craw. And he flew to the Rest and be Thankfu’ Stane--- A merry auld carle was he; He stottit and fluffer’t as he had been wud,[11] Or drucken wi’ the barley bree.[12] But a rountree[13] grew at the stane— It is there unto this day, And gin ye dinna find it still, Set doun that it’s away. And he ne’er wist o’ the rountree Till he cam dunt[14] thereon; His magic broomstick tint its spell, And he daudit[15] on the stone. His heid was hard, and the Stane was sae, And whan they met ane anither, It was hard to say what wad be the weird Of either the tane or the tither. But the Stane was muilt[16] like a lampet shell, And sae was Auld Dunrod; When ye munt a broomstick to tak a flicht, Ye had best tak anither road. The neighbours gatherit to see the sicht, The Stane’s remains they saw; But as for Auld Dunrod himsel’, He was carriet clean awa’. And monie noy’t,[17] as weill they micht, The Rest and be Thankfu’ Stane; And ilk ane said it bad been better far, Gin Dunrod had staid at hame. And what becam o’ Auld Dunrod Was doubtfu’ for to say, Some said he wasna there ava,[18] But flew anither way. 1 Ghostly, unearthly. 2 Of the elder-tree. 3 Bannatyne, Laird of kellie, in the parish of Innerkip. 4 Make a lighter swim. 5 Wondrous. 6 Appeared as if they had been like moss baked in the sun. 7 Henpecked? 8 Mounted. 9 Fluttered. 10 From a carrion-crow. 11 Bounded and whisked about. 12 Drunken with ale. 13 Mountain-ash. 14 With a thump. 15 Fell violently down. 16 Crushed. 17 Blamed. 18 At all. |
Subject: Lyr Add: WIDDECOMBE ON THE MOOR (A L Salmon) From: Jim Dixon Date: 23 Dec 22 - 01:44 PM This poem was quoted by GUEST,symon on 09 Aug 2008: From West-Country Verses by Arthur Leslie Salmon (Edinburgh and London: William Blackwood and Sons, 1908), page 10. WIDDECOMBE ON THE MOOR. The devil came to Widdecombe With thunder and with flame; He left behind at Widdecombe A terror and a name; And this, the moorland voices tell, Is how the devil came. The autumn flashed with red and gold Along the Devon lanes; The tangled hedges of the wold Were rich with mellow stains,— The torrents of the moorland old Were turbulent with rains. There came a stranger to the inn And sought to know his way— To Poundstock on the moor he came In sombre black array; He asked the road to Widdecombe— It was the Sabbath-day. He shouted loudly for a drink— His sable steed he stroked; And when he tossed the liquor down, It boiled and hissed and smoked; Like water on a red-hot iron The hissing liquor soaked. "Good woman, will you be my guide To Widdecombe on the moor?" With trembling accent she declined— She said the road was sure. She saw a cloven hoof strike out As he spurred away from the door. Low on the massy cleaves and tors A boding trouble lay— A ceaseless murmur of the streams Came through the silent day. The stranger rode to Widdecombe,— Full well he found the way. The folk were gathered in the church To hear the evening pray'r, And if 'twas dark enough without, 'Twas threefold darker there; And on the gathered people fell A shudder and a scare. Now is the time, oh kneeling folk, To pray with fervent fear, For the enemy of the soul of man, Devouring fiend, is near, And evil thoughts and base desires Unbind his fetters here. Sudden upon the moorland kirk The crash of thunder broke— A noise as of a thousand guns, With many a lightning-stroke,— A blackness as of blackest night, With fitful fire and smoke. It seemed the Day of doom had come; The roof was torn and rent, And through the church from end to end A fearful flame-ball went. It seemed the dreadful Day had come In wild bewilderment. The stranger came to Widdecombe— He tied his horse without; He rushed into the crashing door With fiendish laugh and shout; Through the door the fiery stranger came, Through the shattered roof went out. Men prayed with terror and remorse— In frenzied fear they cried; And one lay dead with cloven head, His blood besprinkled wide— And one was struck so dire a stroke That of his hurt he died. Down through the roof the turret came— The spire was twisted stark. A beam came crushing down between The parson and the clerk,— And fearful was the sudden light, And fearful was the dark. Then fell a deep and deathlike hush; And through the silence dead, "Good neighbours, shall we venture out?" A trembling farmer said— "I' the name o' God, shall we venture out?”— For the fearsome time seemed sped. Then up and spake the minister With white yet dauntless face: "Tis best to make an end of prayer, Trusting to Christ His grace; For it were better to die here Than in another place." So in the kirk at Widdecombe They finished evening pray'r; And then at last they ventured out Into the autumn air. Brightly the jagged moorland lay In sundown calm and fair. The devil came to Widdecombe With thunder and with flame,— He left behind a shattered kirk, A terror, and a fame; And this, the moorland voices tell, Is how the devil came. |
Subject: RE: Halloween Songs [1] From: Stilly River Sage Date: 20 Sep 24 - 09:30 AM Refreshing this after someone started song research over on the Facebook Annex. This thread and the topics linked at the top should provide a good starting place to create a list. |
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