Dressed in a bin bag, outside my door,
is a very small child of just three or four.
He’s hyper on Smarties or some other sweet
and repeatedly shouts “Trick or Treat”

I turn down the telly, pretend we’re not home,
hoping the little git will leave us alone.
He’s persistent though, I hear him outside
and I wonder if I’m being unkind,

“No, bog off, you little sod, I didn’t ask you to come.
It’s your parent’s concept, their idea of fun
to come out in the cold, in this bloody weather
making you wear a costume of minimal endeavour

What are you by the way? A wizard? A fairy?
Whatever you are, you’re not very scary.
Now run on your way, you won’t get treats here
And you’re really quite small, so I have nothing to fear”

I close the door, without a second thought,
And eye up the sweeties that my husband had bought,
He buys treats and goodies every Hallowe’en
But I see off the kids, so they’re all for meeeee!!



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