. . . . . . . . . Little Pumpkin sat on the table so bare Giving passing friends an oogl-ey stare. He sat and he stared with his hands on his face, On top of that table in his rightful place. ‘Til one Autumn eve a friend did arrive, She thought he was cute and she did contrive, To take him on home to sit on her porch, Next to an iron lantern with a flaming torch. And as little friends came by that night all dressed up, To beg for candies on which they could sup, He stared at them all with his oogl-ey face, –They smiled right back before home they did race.