The Dead Dance.

The click as bone scrapes naked bone,
Clad only in their rags,
Withered corpses, regal once,
Yet now reduced to hags.

It's Halloween and time to come,
To surface, rise and chance,
The skeletons move from their beds,
And start their wicked dance.

We're humans to look on this sight,
They'd balk and try to run,
A skeleton might see them go,
Tease them to join the fun.

The dead do dance like ne'er before,
White bone the dress code here,
All through the night the graveyards sing,
They come from far and near.

Children, men and animals,
Women without their lace,
It's the time of the Dead Dance,
Where the living have no place.