He he he he ah ah ha ha Mr. Beistle He saw in black and orange And heard witches at his door Black cats tore at his brain M. L. Beistle was his name His paper factory it grew Most have never seen him "Well, very few!" The old man stirs an inky brew And from the chimney black smoke spews He he he he ah ah ha ha Mr. Beistle Was he evil? 1919 was the year He unleashed his wave of fear Ghouls and ghosts to make you scream Were all part of Beistle's dream Occultic signs in decoration Spinning webs in childhood's imagination And shapes the concepts we now see In our modern Halloween 12 o'clock on Halloween Many strange things can be seen If you feel a chill down your spine The ghost of Beistle's right behind