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Round Harrowden way, when Halloween come, it’s bairn take to street, Gloamrat and all, wild-eyed and soot-faced, drag old rope of root lantern behind them. Not pumpkin, mind... we’ve nowt so daft here.... these are carved out of what Cankerfallow cough up : swede, parsnip, celery root and "unidentified" all twisted wrong-shaped... with face that look carved even before any blade touch them...
Stick candle in, tie them with wire, and tramp through ginnel of Lower Harrowden, sing strange song and knock on door for scrap or coin. You’ll hear before you see them, scrape of tin, squeal of laughter, dull hum of chant in a tongue that ain’t quite child’s play.
It’s just daft fun? others reckon older? That bairn walk round so rest us don’t have to, keep those dead silent down Gallows Bog way.
Either way, when knock come, best answer polite, else next morning you’ll find one of them root face staring up at your step, candle still burning low...