The Pumpkin Of Dorian Gray

As the season descends into frost
As wet drifts of dead leaves grow enmossed
As winter approaches
And Hallowe’encroaches
My mood turns ebullient and gay

Partaking of spirits and vice
I indulge in impulses not nice
Yet my soul can afford it
All thanks to a gourd–it’s
The Pumpkin of Dorian Gray

I carve it anew every year
And the practical benefit’s clear
However depraved
My behavior I’m saved
Though the fruit grows more foul each day

On the morn after All Hallow’s Eve
As my victims’ survivors all grieve
I will hum as I sweep
The malodorous heap
That’s the Pumpkin of Dorian Gray


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