Amidst all the ghouls, goblins, ghosts, and platform shoe-d frankensteins, exists your platform Doc Marten wearing girlfriend
“Twas the night before Halloweekend, and all through campus,
Not a creature was stirring, not even RA Gus;
The fishnets were hung by the radiators with care;
In hopes that a frat boy would soon see them there;
The freshman were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sexy philosophers danced in their heads;
And my goth gf in her bat makeup, and I in my cap,
Had just woken up from a pre-rager nap,
When out on the lawns there arose such a tent,
I sprang from my twin XL to see what it meant.
Away to my shafted window I flew like a flash,
To see young drunk students dance “The Monster Mash.”
The moon on the cheek of my goth gf’s The Garden-esque foundation
Gave the lustre of ghouls flitting around with elation.
When, what to my wondering eye should disappear,
But my miniature goth girlfriend, and the eight pairs of Demonias she wears.
More rapid than the 1 train her courses they came,
And she whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, Winged Liner! Now, Septum Piercing! Now, Deftones and Bleached Brows!
On, Baby Bang! On, Choker! On House Shows and Ozzy Osborne!”
To the top of EC! To the top of CG!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
