I was born on Halloween
when witches pay their due.
Everyone thinks I’m so mean,
but what am I to do?
My mother named me Hazel,
and makes me ride a broom.
She feeds me brew with basil,
and locks me in my room.
My nose is long and crooked.
My pet cat, Boo is black.
They say that I am wicked.
What is it that I lack?
My friends, they all are goblins,
and my father is a ghost.
My sister loves grave robbing,
and my brother loves brain toast.
I wish there was a potion,
to end this evil curse.
For I don’t have a notion,
and my life is getting worse.
So here’s a word of warning
to every child around.
If you were born on Halloween morning,
You best get out-of-town!