Little pumpkin black nose,
Dark haired little girl
Out among wilted cornrows.
Damp night, misty, veil so thin
Between living and death,
She wants to be let in.
Black costume with grave dirt,
Sweet smile with fetid breath,
Such innocence cannot hurt.
You take her cold hand, lead her inside.
You are claimed, taken to fallow fields.
In the damp night, underground, to hide.
All them bones keep the soil dark,
And keep her quiet, held in bone arms.
Next Samhain, her loneliness will mark
The cold earth and blood that gives life.
Out among wilted cornrows she goes,
Underground were loss is rife.