When I was a bairn in days of yore,
We guisers knocked from door to door,
We dressed up scary, or dressed up fine,
Sang a song, or a poem that rhymed.
Our lanterns carved of Scottish neep,
With candlelight our way did keep,
A pillowcase we tagged along,
To tote rewards for poem or song.
But nowadays, kids trick or treat,
Without the poem or song sung sweet,
No hardy neep carved out by dad,
But torches held by lass or lad!
