Not traditional, not even a song
from 1987


Agnes At Halloween

I'll tell you the story of Agnes
Who lived in a small council flat
In the famed country village of Acton
Though not many people knew that.

She fancied a milkman called Horace
Who went on his rounds every day.
He'd leave her a pint of the gold top
And merrily go on his way.

She longed for each Saturday morning
When Horace at her doorbell would ring,
But when she tried to ask for his favours
She just asked for a carton of cream.

No, Agnes was fast getting nowhere
And something just had to be done,
For her doorstep encounters with Horace
Didn't seem to be very much fun.

So Agnes, she thought for a while
About what the plan it should be.
'I know, I'll think I'll try witchcraft
Which should prove quite fruitful for me.'

So she went off in search of a witch club
To help win the heart of her dear,
But whoever she asked, everyone said,
'There ain't no witch clubs round 'ere!'

So she went to the village of Soho,
Which was already noted for sin,
And saw, on the door, a large notice:
'Witches required, enquire within.'

Now Agnes had joined a witch club
In the center of old London Town.
She went to a neighbouring witch shop
To purchase her white silken gown.

Agnes just couldn't wait to try witching
And hurriedly cast off a spell,
But as hard as she tried, nothing would work
'Cos she never could spell very well.

Her next thought was to try out a potion
To help win her own true love's heart.
She'd invite Horace in for a cuppa.
Well, that might just do for a start.

So on Saturday, she made him a nice cup of tea
And popped in the potion quite quick,
But instead of making him feel randy,
He felt quite horribly sick.

Now Agnes was nearly past trying,
As with each try her hopes they were dashed,
Till she got from the coven an invite
To attend of their Halloween bash.

So Agnes, she plotted her master plan,
One that she knew could not fail:
On a sweet scented letter wrote: 'Go to Hyde Park.
Be there twelve o'clock on the nail!'

The letter it gave clear instructions.
What he should do was wrote down:
'Go to the bridge on the Serpentine.
I'll be wearing a white silken gown.'

Horace's heart was now captured
By the sweet scented letter she wrote.
He'd go to the park and find Agnes,
And stuck in his pocket the note.

At twelve o'clock there stood Horace,
But Agnes' plan had a hitch.
There were hundreds of witches in white silken robes
And he couldn't tell which witch was which.

Now Agnes' plan had backfired
As once more her hopes they were blighted,
For in spite of her hours of scheming
He lust was still quite unrequited.

So for all of her covenly planning
She has to make do with once more
The occasional carton of cream
And her daily gold top by the door.