The Hags of Hallow-Even by Mildred Plew Merryman When the pumpkin shivers And the corn shocks shy And the red moon quivers Like a black cat’s eye, Whist! Whist! And never dare to pry, For the Hags of Hallow-even fly! Out the dusk of Deevon, Down the cobwebbed sky, The Hags of Hallow-even fly! When the fire won’t crackle And the cream won’t crim And the hens go cackle And the lamp blows dim, Hist! Hist! And keep your shadow slim, For the Hags of Hallow-even skim! Riding out of Deevon At steeple’s rim, The Hags of Hallow-even skim! When the field mice scurry And the stars all hide, When the air feels furry An the black bats glide, Whist! Whist! And bid your kitty bide, For the Hags of Hallow-even ride! Out the dusk of Deevon While the wind blows wide The Hags of Hallow-even ride!
This poem, from Child Life magazine, led me a merry dance when I got curious about the many dialect words used: "Hallow-Even" is a nice one you don't see often. The author, a prolific poet, was born in Chicago in 1892, and we know less about her than I'd like, but illustrator John Gee was easier to find out about, thanks to Lambiek.
