Halloween Songs [1]

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,
On Samhain, when the veil is thin,
Between the worlds of dark and light,
Dare you let a stranger in?

Most folk beside their hearth will stay
The night when frost first chills the sod,
When spirits walk, as some will say,
An evil night to be abroad.

But I was sat beside the fire
With shadows dancing on the floor,
And as I watched the flames leap higher,
A knock came on my cottage door.

‘Who's there?’ I called with trembling voice
That did my fearful state betray.
I was resolved that, given choice,
Behind my oaken door I'd stay.

‘Don't be afraid; I mean no ill.’
A voice like honey filled my ears,
And just as if it bent my will,
I drew the bolt despite my fears.

There stood a man with raven hair,
As tall and straight as Gallows Oak.
His face held beauty and despair,
And with that same soft voice he spoke:

‘I walk this night with weary tread,
My hours but a precious few,
Among the unremembered dead
To seek the love I never knew.

'I prayed that Fate would help me find
A loving heart that would not fear,
And guide my steps to someone kind.
In all the world, it led me here.’

‘Don't be a fool!’ my reason quailed,
For some there are that call me wise,
And yet my foolish heart prevailed,
My wisdom lost in dark, sad eyes.

When blackest night gave way at last,
The gray cock crowed, and then the red.
‘The day has come; my time is past.
I must away!’ my lover said.

‘Oh no!’ I cried, ‘It cannot be!
My heart should burst from such a pain!
If day must part my love and me,
For mercy, will you come again?’

‘I know not if there be such power
To life again my soul to bind,
But here I pledge that hopeful hour
This earth to walk, my love to find.’

And as the dawn broke high above,
The coal-black cock crowed on the green.
Without a sound my phantom love
Was gone as if he'd never been.

I live now as I always have.
I tend the sick with healer's art,
But cannot find the balm or salve
To close the wound upon my heart.

Though I may no more see his face,
And may be damned if I believe,
No mortal man will e'er replace
My love that came on Hallow's Eve.

On Hallow's Eve, on moonlit night,
On Samhain, when the veil is thin,
Between the worlds of dark and light
I wait to let a stranger in.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0yzkG9-cu-E

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:

https://www.mamalisa.com/blog/heres-a-fun-lightly-spooky-poem-to-recite-to-kids-at-halloween-time-or-just-for-fun/

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.

MP3 of Crime Time in English

In a scary voice say:

Midnight, the time of the crime,
A man, a knife in his hand…

Then nonchalantly say:

Spreads butter on
A slice of bread.

Here it is in French:

MP3 of Crime Time in French

Minuit, l’heure du crime…
Un homme, un couteau à la main,
étalait du beurre
sur une tartine de pain.

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
(Crowwomen - on their debut album "Crow Goddess")
c. Georje Holper


AWAY YE MERRY LASSES

I told me Mum I was going out, she asked what I was all about
I asked if I could take the broom, I'm going to meet the girls
Oh, the moon is wax tonight and don't you like the fellas?
I prefer the girls tonight, I'm going to ride the wind

chorus:
'Cause it's the girls' night out, away ye merry lasses
Get your brooms, get 'em out, we'll ride the wind tonight
Oh, it's the girls' night out, away ye merry lasses
Get your brooms, get 'em out, we'll ride the wind tonight

My sister is so bold and free, she asked if she could come with me
I saw her up above the trees, a-goin' to ride the wind
Oh, the moon is wax tonight and don't you like the fellas?
I prefer the girls tonight, I'm going to ride the wind
Chorus

As we were goin' out the gate we met our dear old mother
Ridin' a broom and hummin' a tune, goin' to ride the wind
Oh, the moon is wax tonight and don't you like the fellas?
I prefer the girls tonight, I'm going to ride the wind
Chorus

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:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lnmnl9-VRE8&list=PLguKKyAXVMJcR2XHSB5PBOJc_cfdDPQB6

Subject: RE: halloween songs
From: GUEST,Shontell
Date: 08 Jun 22 - 11:05 PM

Does anyone know a childhood song that goes:

Creatures creeping through the Night.
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.