“Now, first thing is to say this: Much further out than inevitable, Halloween's thy game. Sky King has come and Wilma's done, Uncertain as it is uneven. Give us today hors d'oeuvres in bed, As we forgive those who have dressed up against us. And need us not enter inflation, butter, liver, onions, and potatoes. For wine is a shingle, and a Moore, and a story for your Father. Alright.”