Ghosts of the night
This is a story of the time when friendly ghosts were human hosts.
The human host
Always had a friendly ghost.
Together they enjoyed butter and toast.
Then we went out in the frost.
They chilled out on the coast.
One booo and off went the host!
The Witch of the West
Was their guest!
She was a friend indeed.
She was the best
She paid no heed to the rest.
She rode on a rope
That was as long as
The road to the mountaintop
On a full moon night, she rode.
Down the mountain slope
Down into the valley
Where the folk grew their crop
🎃Pumpkin and bean creepers
Entwined in the rope she slipped on
She seeped deep into the 🌎 earth.
The deeper she went
The higher the creepers grew,
The higher they grew the better.
The pumpkins and beans crops were
So was the folklore belief
If her rope touched the 🥒cucumber root
Then it changed shape and turned bitter.
Bitter than the bitterest gourd
The folk then used all their strength to pull.
To pull at the bitter cucumber roots
To get the friendly witch out of the ground
It was a difficult task to tug the rope.
Out of the deep deep soil
Way down in the ground
It had to be pulled out.
So men women and children
Gathered on a half-moon eve
To heave the friendly witch
Out of the ground
They played the flute at sunset.
All gathered to the field by dusk.
With butter and milk for strength
And cypress branches as torches
They beat the local drum.
Accompanied by the bagpipes
They danced around the cucumber creeper.
Then pulled at the creeper.
It was not only a matter of strength.
It was a matter of pride.
To rescue a friend who was
Buried deep into the ground
The people tugged and pulled.
Through the night🌃
At midnight out came
The friendly witch
Purple due to poison
That was the reason for
The bitterness of the cucumber
She had to be served with
Butter, buttermilk, cheese and milk
Which went on for the rest of the night
Then at dawn
the purple morning glory creeper
Bloomed the trumpet-shaped flower
Taking the color from her
The friendly witch turned gleaming white.
Who would return again next year?
On the full moon of the monsoon
To be pulled out on half moon of autumn
Some years she did not turn purple.
Those years the cucumbers were sweet.
That year she appeared.
on the half-moon night
White and fair
That year the flute played at sunset.
The folk gathered in the field by dusk.
Curd in cucumber was served.
Sweet and sour with salt and sugar
The orange 🎃 pumpkin was placed.
One upon another
The ripened greenish orange cucumber🥒
Placed upon the pumpkin upright
The beans upon the cucumber
Served as the hair of the lady
And the morning glory blooms upon it
Was the hat of the lady
with a cucumber body
Beautiful, like a lady seated in the field
The folk played the bagpipes.
The people danced💃to their tune.
with cypress torches in hands
The night was magical.
At midnight they placed
Their torches upon the pumpkin lady
There was a loud clap in the sky.
The lightning flashed through the skies.
From the last of the autumn skies
Descended through the white light
The fair and white friendly witch
The sweet-sour cucumber curd she drank
Then danced with the folk till early morning.
Weaving the long rope with the creepers
Careful not to touch the cucumber root
She went to her abode atop the hill.
It was a sad happy moment as she left.
Like the sweet sour curd cucumber!
This is the tale of friendly ghosts.
And their human hosts….
Folklore has it well documented.
There is no logic no reason.
It is what the magical world of
Ghosts and witches are made up of!