Ghosts and Goblins

What is it, what is it for goodness sake
That scratches my rooftop through the night
And keeps me wide awake?

Is it a goblin chasing itself in and out of my sight
Or is it a witch on a broom?

It knocks on my window and once in a while
Throws a shadow across my room.

It waves its arms wildly as if it’s insane
Oh, what is it that frightens me?

What is it?
                Well, I’ll be!
                                    It can’t be!
                                                    It is!

It’s my old oak tree.