N. Scoffer. Scoffer (№ 385349)

November comes to tell me about death,
I do not expect him to the other,
Taking into account that
He was born on the night of Samhain,
Celtic and dust devils
In his honor fill the glasses
Cold rain.
November to pry at every opportunity,
Digging in dark corners,
Drags into the light
Primal evil thoughts
On the legs of the spider,
Which would be to disown, but
There is no sentiment.
November substitute the will of procrastination,
It's fashionable now the word
Also he came up with.
The whole of November think
"We need to get together and..."
But even the verses turn out
. A. to...