Beware the things that go punk in the night
and fill your bath to the brim with fright.
Those eyes that glow in a pitch-black room,
belong to the spooks of warm cinnamon.
As the night draws in and silence falls,
All around you the darkness calls.
Don’t look, don’t scream, don’t give it power,
Cleanse the air with pumpkin powder.
The bathroom’s calling,
So no more stalling –
The witching hour brings nightmares crawling.
To make the shadows retreat and recoil,
Fizz this ghoul of bright citrus oils.