After sunset, abide and hide.
Do not stray out of doors,
For spirits roam the countryside,
In towns and on the moors.
Tonight is their New Year, Samhain,
When the veil of life thins
And living dead walk not in vain
To seek their frightened kin.
Light the pumpkins! Sculpt the faces,
That will lead the dead home,
Away from the living places,
To rest their weary bones.
And in the dead of night, my dear,
Millions of ghosts fly free.
Stay with me now and do not fear,
They will not come for thee.
The harvest has been gathered in,
Corn is nailed to the door.
Evening fog is high as my shin.
Now I will not say more.
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