Hallowe'en

The knocker knocketh thricely
And Minnie op’ed the door;
Upon the step stood Mr Goole
She knew what he’d come for.

He tipped his hat politely
And then put back his wig.
“I need your special treatment,”
He said, with a little jig.

“Stop jigging on my doorstep,
You’re muddying the stoop,”
Quoth Minnie in a panic
As she eyed the drippy dupe.

“I’ll cross your palm with silver,”
He twinkled at the dame.
“I’d rather it was gold,” she said,
“That’s more my sort of game.”

“I know your game, that’s why I came;
I need to get my fill
Of what you do so gamely
That gives me such a thrill!”

She let him in and closed the door,
They both sat at the table.
“Do you want me to rub it up?” he asked,
“I’m more than willing and able.”

She leaned across the polished pine,
A glint rose in her eye.
“I’ll rub it up myself,” she said,
“At least I’ll give it a try.”

She peered into the murky depths,
A shadow seemed to form.
Soon she was looking at quite a sight
It made her cheeks grow warm.

“I see a vibrant future,
With wine and song and women.
Your Lotto ticket will come up trumps,
But better not risk swimming.”

He passed across a piece of gold,
Then fled quick as he could.
‘Twas only when she held it up
She saw it was a dud.

“The silly fool,” quoth Minnie then
“To try and pull this trick;
I’ll have my witch revenge,” she swore;
Her fingers gave a flick.

As Mr Goole sat in the pub
With ale and doxies many,
He felt around for his small change
But found he hadn’t any.

So do beware on Hallowe’en
And do not mock the witch,
For she will get her own back
The cunning little b-