In Miller’s woods where varmints prowl,
Where trees grow tall and hound dogs howl,
There used to live a wise old owl . . .
I saw him there one Autumn night,
High on a limb . . . in full moonlight,
Hootin’ at everything in sight . . .
God made the trees, the Mourning Dove,
The moon and stars that shine above,
I know He also made me love . . .
’Twas me who gave the owl his name,
But now the nights don’t seem the same,
I often wonder what became of . . .
The other day I chanced to see
A big stuffed owl that stared at me,
I thought, Oh! no, that just can’t be . . .
But now . . . as Halloween draws near,
When witches ride . . . and ghosts appear,
Just listen good . . . and you might hear . . .