The night we shall come to, by and by,

Is the night when all the witches fly.

The night when they try to give you a fright;

It is, of course, Halloween night.

The night when every single witch

Her orange pumpkin light will switch

And sitting on her magic broom

Off into the sky she will zoom.

She flies to the secret hideaway

That goes invisible by day;

The place where all the witches meet,

A secret room under the street.

Then every witch makes a horrible spell

She mixes it together and boils it well.

Then every witch swaps a horrible potion

For an equally vile and terrible lotion.

Then home they fly, for you must remember

They have to be home by the first of November.

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