Deep in the magical woods of Firwind
where squirrels have ample nuts,
there lived a family of witches
in small round wooden huts.

Each night they would all gather
and whisper their naughty spells,
mixing their potions together
and making some awful smells!

But deeper still within the woods
there was a deep dark hole.
And in this hole a creature dwelled,
they say with a heart of coal.

He was dirty and smelly,
his trumps stunk like skunks!
And he hated the witches –
he hated them a bunch!

For the foul old Fudmoore was wicked and cruel,
he ate no food except smelly foul gruel.
He only washed at Christmas, and he bounced all his cheques.
He even growled and teased his old dog, Rex.

The witches loved to celebrate Halloween
when the people of Firwind dressed as ghosts and ghouls
and children would chuckle and giggle and scream!

But old grumpy Fudmoore couldn’t stand all the noise
and planned and plotted and schemed to ruin it all!
To sneak and to skulk and scare all the girls and boys.

So he dressed up in black and he put on a hat,
he painted his face and he wore a fake nose.
He dressed up Rex with the wings of a bat
and he practised his scary faces in the mirror at home.

Halloween arrived and the children were giddy.
Buckets in hand they collected their sweets
But they were not the only ghouls wondering the streets…

With a howl and a crash and a bang and a shriek
miserable old Fudmore leapt from his hole to the street.
And the children scream and they yelp and they squeak!

And then the strangest of things,
they giggle and laugh, and they stop to speak.
“A mighty fine costume!” they said with a chuckle,

and something more strange followed just after…
For old Fudmore felt something inside.
A feeling so strange, so rare, and so odd,
a feeling he hadn’t felt before; he was bursting with pride!

And they say that day his heart changed from coal to a diamond
As he yelped and he quivered and burst into laughter!
And played and ran and pretended to be frightened.

Silly old Fudmore and Rex made friends that day
and once a year now they come out and they play.

For now the woods of Firwind are now much different,
and the hole in the ground doesn’t seem as deep as before,
and the cackling of witches not quite so abhorrent
because these days old Fudmore has friends to adore.