‘Twas the night before Halloween
And all through the thicket
Every monster was stirring
Especially Helena Cricket
Standing at her cauldron
She stared at the clock
She watched the old clock
Go tick-tock, tick-tock
‘Twas the twenty-third hour
Of the thirtieth day
Halloween was merely
An hour away
But the seconds did pass
As quickly as an old slug
And the witch’s impatience grew
Like an inert jitterbug
And so, the old hag
Hatched a horrible heist
She would steal the last hour
Of this infuriating night
She hopped on her broom
And flew through the sky
To Father Time’s domain
With flames in her eyes
Slowly and steadily
She crept through his abode
Until she reached
The stream where time flowed
Extending her hands
She scooped up the water
But stopped when she saw
Father Time had caught her
Nervous and trembling
She begged for forgiveness
Father Time sighed
And told her this:
Attempting to steal time is a serious crime
That warrants a significant punishment
But it’s nearly Halloween, and I haven’t the heart to be mean
So, I’ll leave you with a stern admonishment
Think of the moments you could have erased
The days you would have missed had you drank from the stream
I understand your frustration, so I have a postulation
What if we worked as a team?
Once winter dies and spring begins, you may borrow an hour
But you must return it when Halloween ends, or else you shall lose your power
The witch agreed to his offer
And said she would adopt
The morning hour of two o’clock
In order to ensure the witching hour would arrive
An hour earlier so the hobgoblins could thrive
And that is why every March
We move our clocks forward
And every November
We turn them back
We retell the tale
Of Helena Cricket
The witch who almost stole time
But instead made a Halloween pact
