Happy Halloween everyone.  Tonight marks the true end of summer and the beginning of winter and the start of a new year in the old calendar.  Its also the night that the wee ones don their scary costumes. Of course, some are less scary than others:

An old Gaelic verse sets it right (maybe Mom can translate)

Mar a bha
Mar a tha
Mar a bhitheas
Gu brath. 

And of course Robbie Burns:

I

Upon that night, when Fairies light,
On Cassilis Downans dance,
Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze,
On sprightly coursers prance;
Or for Colean, the rout is taen,
Beneath the moon’s pale beams;
There, up the Cove, to stray an’ rove,
Amang the rocks an’ streams
To sport that night.

II

Amang the bonie, winding banks,
Where Doon rins, wimplin, clear,
Where Bruce ance ruul’d the martial ranks,
An’ shook his Carrick spear
Some merry, friendly, countra folks,
Together did convene,
To burn their nits, an’ pou their stocks,
An haud their Halloween
Fu’ blythe that night.

III

The lasses feat, an’ cleanly neat,
Mair braw than when they’re fine;
Their faces blythe, fu’ sweetly kythe,
Hearts leal, an’ warm, an’ kin’:
The lads sae trig, wi’ wooer-babs,
Weel knotted on their garten,
Some unco blate, an’ some wi’ gabs,
Gar lasses hearts gang startin
Whyles fast at night.

IV

Then, first an’ foremost, thro’ the kail,
Their stocks maun a’ be sought ance;
They steek their een, an’ grape an’ wale,
For muckle anes, an’ straught anes.
Poor hav’rel Will fell aff the drift,
An’ wander’d thro’ the Bow-kail,
An’ pow’t, for want o’ better shift,
A runt was like a sow-tail
Sae bow’t that night.

V

Then, straught or crooked, yird or nane,
They roar an’ cry a’ throw’ther;
The vera wee-things, toddlan, rin,
Wi’ stocks out owre their shouther;
An’ gif the custock’s sweet or sour;
Wi’ joctelegs they taste them;
Syne coziely, aboon the door;
Wi’ cannie care, they’ve plac’d them
To lye that night.

VI

The lasses staw frae ‘mang them a’,
To pou their stalks o’ corn;
But Rab flips out, an’ jinks about,
Behint the muckle thorn:
He grippet Nelly, hard an’ fast;
Loud skirl’d a’ the lasses;
But her tap-pickle maist was lost;
When kiutlan in the Fause-house
Wi’ him that night.

VII

The auld Guidwife’s weel-hoordet nits
Are round an’ round divided,
An’ monie lads an’ lasses fates
Are there that night decided:
Some kindle, couthie, side by side,
An’ burn thegither trimly,
Some start awa, wi’ saucy pride,
An’ jump out owre the chimlie
Fu’ high that night.

VIII

Jean slips in twa, wi’ tentie e’e;
Wha ‘twas, she wadna tell;
But this is Jock, an’ this is me,
She says in to hersel:
He bleez’d owre her, an’ she owre him,
As they wad never mair part,
Till fuff! he started up the lum,
An’ Jean had e’en a sair heart
To see’t that night.

IX

Poor Willie, wi’ his bow-kail runt,
Was brunt wi’ primsie Mallie;
An’ Mary, nae doubt, took the drunt,
To be compar’d to Willie:
Mall’s nit lap out, wi’ pridefu’ fling,
An’ her ain fit, it brunt it;
While Willie lap, an’ swoor by jing,
‘Twas just the way he wanted
To be that night.

X

Nell had the Fause-house in her min’,
She pits hersel an’ Rob in;
In loving bleeze they sweetly join,
Till white in ase they’re sobbin:
She whisper’d Rob to leuk for’t:
Rob, stowlins, prie’d her bonie mou,
Fu’ cozie in the neuk for’t,
Unseen that night.

XI

But Merran sat behint their backs,
Her thoughts on Andrew Bell;
She lea’es them gashan at their cracks,
An’ slips out by hersel:
She thro’ the yard the nearest taks,
An’ for the kiln she goes then,
Right fear’t that night.

XII

An’ ay she win’t, an’ ay she swat,
I wat she made nae jaukin;
Till something held within the pat,
Guid L—d! but she was quaukin!
But whether ‘twas the Deil himsel,
Or whether ‘twas a bauk-en’,
Or whether it was Andrew Bell,
She did na wait on talkin
To spier that night.

XIII

Wee Jenny to her Graunie says,
‘Will ye go wi’ me Graunie?
I’ll eat the apple at the glass,
I gat frae uncle Johnie:’
She fuff’t her piepe wi’ sic a lunt,
In wrath she was sae vap’rin,
She notic’t na, an aizle brunt
Her braw, new, worset apron
Out thro’ that night.

XIV

‘Ye little Skelpie-limmer’s-face!
I daur you try sic sportin,
As seek the foul Thief onie place,
For him to spae your fortune:
Nae doubt but ye may get a sight! Great cause ye hae to fear it;
For monie a ane has gotten a fright,
An’ liv’d an’ di’d deleeret,
On sic a night.

XV

Ae Hairst afore the Sherra-moor,
I mind’t as weel’s yestreen,
I wass a gilpey then, I’m sure,
I was na past fyfteen:
The Simmer had been cauld an’ wat,
An’ Stuff was unco green;
An’ ay a rantan Kirn we gat,
An’ just onn Halloween
It fell that night.

XVI

Our Stibble-rig was Rab McGraen,
A clever, sturdy fallow;
His Sin gat Eppie Sim wi’ wean,
That liv’d in Achmacalla:
He gat hemp-seed, I mind it weel,
An’ he made unco light o’t;
But monie a day was by himsel,
He was sae fairly frighted
That vera night.’

XVII Then up gat fechtan Jamie Fleck,
An’ he swoor by his conscience,
That he could saw hem-seed a peck;
For it was a’ but nonsense:
The auld guidman raught down the pock,
An’ out a handfu’ gied him;
Syne bad him slip frae ‘mang the folk,
Sometime when nae ane see’d him,
An try’t that night.

XVIII]

He marches thro’ amang the stacks,
Tho’ he was something sturtan;
The graip he for a harrow taks,
An’ haurls at his curpan:
And ev’ry now an’ then, he says,
‘Hemp-seed I saw thee,
An’ her that is to be my lass,
Come after me an’ draw thee
As fast this night.’

XIX

He whistl’d up lord Lenox’ march,
To keep his courage cheary;
Altho’ his hair began to arch,
H was sae fley’d an’ eerie:
Till presently he hears a squeak,
An’ then a grane an’ gruntle;
He by his showther gae a keek,
An’ tumbl’d wi’ a wintle
Out owre that night.

XX

He roar’d a horrid murder-shout,
In dreadfu’ desperation!
An’ young an’ auld come rinnan out,
An’ hear the sad narration:
He swoor ‘twas hilchan Jean McCraw,
Or crouchie Merran Humphie
Till stop! she trotted thro’ them a’:
An’ wha was it but Grumphie
Asteer that night>

XXI

Meg fain wad to the Barn gaen,
To winn three wechts o’ naething,
But for to meet the Deil her lane,
She pat but little faith in:
She gies the Herd a pickle nits,
An’ twa red cheeket apples,
To watch, while for the Barn she sets,
In hopes to see Tom Kipples
That vera night.

XXII

She turns the key, wi’ cannie thraw,
An’ owre the threshold ventures;
But first on Sawnie gives a ca’,
Syne bauldly in she enters:
A ratton rattle’d up the wa’,
An’ she cry’d, L—d preserver her!
An’ ran thro’ midden-hole an’ a’,
An’ pray’d wi’ zeal and fervour,
Fu’ fast that night.

XXIII They hoy’t out Will, wi fair advice;
They hecht him somme fine braw ane;
It chanc’d the Stack he faddom’t thrice,
Was timmer-propt for thrawin:
He taks a swirlie, auld moss-oak,
For some black, grousome Carlin;
An’ loot a winze, an’ drew a stroke,
Till skin in blypes cam haurlin
Aff’s nieves that night.

XXIV

A wanton widow Leeziewas
As cantie as a kittlen;
But Och! that night, amang the shaws,
She gat a fearfu’ settlin!
Seh thro’ the whins, an’ by the cairn,
An’ owre the hill gaed scrievin,
Whare three Lairds’ lan’s met at a burn,
To dip her left sark-sleeve in
Was bent that night.

XXV

Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays,
As thro’ the glen it wimpl’t;
Whyles round a rocky sear it strays;
Whyles in a wiel it dimpl’t;
Whyles glitter’d to the nightly rays,
Wi’ bickerin, dancin dazzle;
Whyles cooket underneath the braes,
Below the spreading hazle
unseen that night.

XXVI

Amang the brachens, on the brae,
Between her an’ the moon,
The Deil, or else an outler Quey,
Gat up an’ gae a croon:
Poor Leezie’s heart maist lap the hool;
Near lav’rock-height she jumpet,
But mist a fit, an’ in the pool
Out owre the lugs she plumpet,
Wi’ a plunge that night.

XXVII

In order, on the clean hearth-stane,
The Luggies three are ranged;
And ev’ry time great care is taen,
To see them duely changed:
Auld, uncle John wha wedlock’s joys,
Sin’ Mar’s-year did desire,
Because he gat the toom dish thrice,
He heav’d them on the fire,
In wrath that night.

XXVIII

Wi’ merry sangs, an’ friendly cracks,
I wat they did na weary;
And unco tales, an’ funnie jokes,
Their sports were cheap an’ cheary:
Till butter’d So’ns wi’ fragrant lunt,
Set a’ their gabs a steerin;
Syne, wi’ a social glass o’ strunt,
They parted off careerin
Fu’ blythe that night.