When the moon rises high over Lion's Arch
And the wind moans through the most hollow of eves

Shutter your homes this holiday
Steer clear of the shadows
For on this night, they say,

A long-addled spirit returns from the grave
Pumpkin upon his head,
A wicked deed within his heart
A pint of witch's brew for all those who misbehave

Heed these words, all ye who dare enter here:
Bind your souls to the mortal realm
For the regent of madness draws near