Much further out than inevitable;
Halloween is thy game.
Sky King has come
And Wilma's done;
Uncertain as it is uneven.
Give us this day hors d' oeuvres in bed
As we forgive those who have dressed up against us.
And lead us not into inflation
But our liver, onions, & potatoes.
For wine is a shingle, and a mower, and a story for your father.
(Apropos of nothing, just wanted to put it out there. I seem to remember seeing John Hartford recite this on The Smothers Brothers show in 1968.)