Mr. Beistle

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