They that are born on Halloween shall see more than other folk.

Witch and ghost make merry on this last of dear October’s days.

A gypsy fire is on the hearth, Sign of the carnival of mirth; Through the dun fields and from the glade Flash merry folk in masquerade, For this is Hallowe'en!

When witches go riding, and black cats are seen, the moon laughs and whispers, ‘tis near Halloween.

The devil's voice is sweet to hear.

Hark! Hark to the wind! 'Tis the night, they say, When all souls come back from the far away- The dead, forgotten this many a day!