The twisted gnarled branches of the briars,
The shadowy meadows of the countryside,
Children in masks skipping along to houses,
A full moon, bonfires lit – I’d rather be inside.
Old storytellers speak of evil demons,
Banshees & Witches lurk everywhere,
Priests at mass are giving their sermons,
I walk home slowly up ahead I stare.
Little me all alone, I stop suddenly & listen.
Nothing but the sound of my pounding heart
Ah sure, who’d bother me…
I’m just your average Goblin.
By Robin McNamara