A TRICK OF TREATS

By Peter Woodgate 

It’s Halloween oh what a bore

Bloody kids knock on my door,

Trick or Treat” they shout with glee,

Their silly costumes don’t fool me.

“You’re no ghosts,” I tell them straight,

“I know that you’re from number eight.

“Come on mister, play the game,

Give us a treat or feel the pain.”

“OK,” I say, “I’ve got a treat,

Come inside but wipe your feet.”

I’ll show them I am no ones fool,

I have a plan I think is cool.

“Are you hungry?” “not arf mate,”

“Then help your self, just grab a plate.”

I chuckle as I read their minds

Anticipating what they’ll find.

Chicken nuggets, burgers, chips

Doughnuts, ice cream, Mcflurry whips.

Each lid they lift, reveals a sight,

That makes them heave and turns them white,

Boiled cabbage, swede, parsnips too,

Brussels sprouts and rabbit stew.

They turn and flee the house in fear,

I don’t think they’ll be back next year.

I smile as I walk to the kitchen, where,

My wife has prepared a sumptuous fare

Of treats for the kids and which I like a hog,

Devour with great haste, then feed mine to the dog.

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate