Vintage music for magical autumn evenings and All Hallows’ Eve (1940s, 50s Warm & Swingin’ Jazz)

Vintage music for magical autumn evenings and All Hallows’ Eve (1940s, 50s Warm & Swingin’ Jazz)

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and
welcome to a Halloween of haunting melodies. Stay close. The night is just
beginning, so tune in if you dare. Come gather around. The hours near, the
air is crisp, and the stars appear. Put on your mask. Don’t be afraid. It’s time
for the pumpkin moon parade. The black cats stretch, the bats take
flight, the broomsticks line up left and right. Witches wink and goblins wave.
They’re marching in the moonlight brave. Boom goes the drum and the skeletons
sway. Ghosts glide by in a grand valley. Candy floats and lanterns blaze. Oh,
what a sight on the spooky suare. Jacko’Lantern grins light every glade in
the pumpkin moon parade. Hear the whistle of the old grave train
rattling past on the candy cane lane. Zombies shimmy mummy sache dancing down
the haunted way. There’s a trumpet solo from a ghoul in red. A banshee crrons
with a rose on her head. And way back on a bony brigade. Come the bad brass boys
with their ghostly grave. Blow that horn like a midnight breeze.
Snap your bones if you’ve got no knees. Hats off to the witch’s brigade.
twirling their wands in a firefly cascade. Step in line or don’t delay for
the pumpkin moon parade. Underneath that glowing gourd, the town
becomes its own accord. With every child and every shade, we all belong in the
pumpkin moon parade. March to the beat of a ghostly tune. Bop
through the beams of the pumpkin moon. The spell is cast, the music’s made. No
turning back from the merry charade. So grab your mask and lemonade.
Join the pumpkin moon parade. to the beat of a ghostly tune. Pop
through the beams of the pumpkin moon. The spell is cast, the music’s made. No
turning back from the merry charade. So grab your mask and lemonade.
Join the pumpkin moon parade. The clock strikes 12. The moon is high.
A silver veil across the sky. The wind begins its soft lament
as if it knows where my heart went. I walk alone through candle light. The
shadows stretch then reunite and in the hush of cold and white begins
the shadow walts at midnight. One, two, three. Ghosts glide near.
Spinning dreams I used to hold dear. Echo sway through the pale moon beam.
Haunting the steps of an old love dream. You’re not here, but I feel you tight.
Leading the shadow walls at midnight. The garden gate still gently swings
as if it hears forgotten strings. A music box long tucked away
plays the tune we danced to that day. Your touch is gone, but not the grace. I
see your smile in empty space and walts alone in velvet night beneath the stars
lost in twilight. One, two, three. The lanterns glow,
flickering slow where the soft winds blow.
Whispers float on the frosty air, twirling with moonlight and memories
there. Though you’re just a ghost in the candle light, we dance the shadow walts
at midnight. Perhaps it’s only in my mind where past
and present intertwine.
But once a year I feel you near. Your phantom voice so soft and clear.
1 2 3 and we begin. A lover’s walts on a ghostly wind.
Hearts still beat through the hush of night.
Bound by a vow and pale moonlight. I’ll wait for you when the time is right
for our shadow walts at midnight. He knocked at my door with a Dracula
grin, slick little smile, and a dimpled chin. I said, “Boy, you better beware.”
He said, “It’s Halloween. I don’t scare.” He took my hand with a ghostly
glow and led me right where the pumpkins grow. We dance past witches on tiptoe
to the trick or treat tango. Trick or treat, but dance me slow
through the cobweb streets where the moon hangs low. No candy kiss, no sweet
hello, just a trick or treat tango. We twirled by cats with emerald eyes
past pirate ghosts and pumpkin pies. With every dip and heel to toe, we spun
that trick or treat tango. He wore a cape and a velvet tie. I wore black lace
and a look that lied. The children laughed as we swept past, but darling,
this spells built to last. The porch lights flickered in delight as we
tangled through the witching night. His heart was mine. He didn’t know. It’s the
trick or treat tango. Trick or treat. Now hold me tight like a
graveyard walts in pale moonlight. I lead you follow nice and slow in this
trick or treat tango. Your soul is caught, your mask is gone,
you’re tangled in my old chiffon. No tricks, just treats. Now lose control to
the trick or treat tango. They say beware the girl in black. She
dances and you don’t come back. But still they knock. They all want more
until they vanish through my door. Trick or treat. Now don’t let go your mind
until the candles low. The bats all cheer. The jackos glow. For I’ll trick
or treat. A kiss, a swirl, a midnight bow. Your
curse, my dear, but happy now. So let the record softly slow in the Trick-or-Treat… Tango! Trick… or… treat… The fire’s low, the clock strikes one,
the over. The night’s begun. A chill moves slow through lace and lace. And
shadows glide from fireplace. The mirror fogs. The windows sigh. The
moon looks down with a watchful eye. You hear a hum behind the drapes. It’s the
witching hour whisper taking shape. It’s soft and low. It curls like smoke.
It dances through the words you spoke. A voice you swear you used to know.
Calls your name in a velvet flow. It doesn’t scream. It doesn’t shout. It
lingers in and won’t burn out. A haunting hum. You can’t outs sleep. The
witching I whisper runs so deep. The floorboards creek like old regrets.
The night recalls what day forget. You light a candle,
take a breath, but feel the hush
of something left. It’s not a ghost with chains or chains,
just perfume in the midnight rain. A lullaby with lips unseen
that drapes around you soft and lean. It calls in tones of silver thread.
A song from dreams and hearts long dead. You try to speak,
you try to run, but all you hear is we’re not done. It
It wraps your soul in satin sighs, You feel it deep. You hind your eyes.
The clock may tick, but time won’t keep. The witching now whispers things to
sweet. Maybe it’s love that never fled
or words you wish you once had. But here it comes
on huck and sweep. That voice that rocks your soul to sleep.
So when the cent start to sway
and all the stars burst the wind, don’t be afraid
if you still hear a melody too close to near.
Just close your eyes and brea it in.
That voice that echoes soft within.
No need to scream. No need to we
the witching hour with just one sleep.
Just one sleep. Just one. The sky is stitched with silver thread.
A crescent moon hangs overhead. The shadows stretch like they’ve been
scheming. It’s a velvet voodoo evening. The air is thick with clove and wine.
Your silhouette so serpentine. One look from you. I stopped believing
in anything but voodoo evenings. Velvet spells and whispered lies. A hex that
hides in bedroom eyes. You lit the match then left it gleaming.
This velvet voodoo evening. The phonograph is slow and low. A tune from
years and lives ago. You sway and I was past retrieving
in this velvet voodoo evening. Your touch is cool. Your lips are warm.
A laaby in thunderstorm. I should have run but kept on leaning
toward your velvet voodoo evening. A charm was pinned beneath your sleeve. A
lie that begged me not to leave. Your laugh was sweet and unforgiving
like satin chains and voodoo evenings. The candles bow, the mirrors blush, the
clock forgets to even hush. You made the dark feel like it’s breathing in this
velvet food. evening. No curse, no claw, no need to fight. You
wrapped me up in dim lap light. I knew, but still I kept believing in every
velvet voodoo evening. Maybe it’s magic, maybe it’s sin. But once you fall, you
don’t leave again. A kiss, a thread, a whispered sigh, and you belong until you
die. So here I wait, my soul half gone. The
record spins your favorite song. I toast the ghost, the moonlight weaving.
Another velvet voodoo evening.
You may be gone, but I keep grieving for one more velvet voodoo
evening. The chandeliers are dim just right. The
ghosts have dressed in black and white. The walts begins. The curtains rise. A
ball beneath enchanted skies. The cobwebs catch the candle light like lace
that glows a ghostly white. You’ll lose your heart and your suspicion. and the
cobweb cotilian. So step with care through the velvet
gloom where shadows swirl across the room. A skeleton bows, a banshee spins,
and every ghoul politely grins. The dead don’t moan, they dance instead with
corsets tight and powdered heads. It’s frightening flare in high tradition at
the Cobweb Cotillion. The phantom quartet softly plays a song
that haunts from yesterday’s. The mirror’s fog with whispered size as long
lost lovers harmonize. The punch is chilled with autumn mist. A bat in
pearls extends her wrist. It’s manners, grace, and apparitions at the Cobweb Cotillion. So glide with charm. Don’t break the
spell. Just mind your steps and dress quite well. The walts may start at half
doom, but darling, it lights up the tomb. No screams, just swing in slow
precision. Its style and spook in full collision. Tonight’s the grandest of
traditions, The Cobweb Cotillion. Some say it’s just a tale they tell of
ballroom ghosts and midnight bells. But if you hear a violin, you might get
swept back in again. So dressed to death in finest thread where fashion floats
and past lives tread. One final bow, one twirl, one spin. The moonlight claps,
the dead begin. So raise a glass to ghostly mission. and toast the cobweb
cotilian where fright meets high society tradition. At the Cobweb Cotillion,
where every ghoul gets grand admission to the Cobweb Cotillion. The velvet seats are lined in
The chandeliers are growing cold. The air is thick with
perfume past. The echoes rise, the shadows cast. The
hush before the phantoms play. Where ghosts of glamour slip away.
A tap, a sigh, a whisper falls. It’s candlelight creeps and curtain calls.
Jack-o’-lanterns flicker in the wings, Old costumes dance on phantom strings.
The spotlight drips in cobweb gauze, for candlelight creeps and curtain calls.
The mirror cracked, the paint now peels, but stardust swirls on phantom wheels.
You’ll hear the past in haunted halls, in candlelight creeps and curtain calls. The organ moans a minor tune. The cello
size beneath the moon. The floorboards creek like someone knows
the secret that the stage still holds. A raven waits upon the prop.
The rusted clock forgets to stop. And through the fog, a voice still calls.
“Encore…” in candlelight creeps and curtain calls. Top hats float and slippers glide. Where chorus girls once danced with pride. Their shadows twirl by crumbling walls
in candlelight creeps and curtain calls. A spider spins a grand bouquet, for
stars who vanished in the gray. They bow again when no one stalls to
candlelight creeps and curtain calls. A theater never really dies,
It breathes and whispers flickering eyes. Each laugh and tear the red drape keeps…
Alive in waltzes sung by creeps. So raise a glass to ghosts on stage,
To haunted scripts and turning page. The velvet world where silence sprawls,
Is rich with candlelight creeps and curtain calls. The moon applauds, The curtain falls…
on candlelight creeps and curtain calls. I don’t need a crystal ball or a raven’s
midnight call. Don’t need potions, frogs, or smoke. Just one sly look and
you’re my bloke. I’ve got lace that casts a charm and lipstick laced with
sweet alarm. You lose your heart with no permission
to spells and satin ribbons. I tied a ribbon around your soul.
Whisper dreams you can’t control. You won’t recall the moment it began. But
now you’re mine. Oh yes, you are my man. No hocus pocus, no black cats, no
broomstick tricks or pointed hats, just winks and words like sweet sedition and
spells and satin ribbon. I walk by in a velvet haze,
The room leans into my gaze, They say I got that something strange. It might be love or
just a chain. But darling, once you felt this lace, you’ll chase my ghost from
place to place. You won’t escape my soft ignition.
These spells and satin ribbons. I tied a bow around your fate. I whispered charm
on every date. You thought it luck the way we met, but love like this is no
roulette. You’re wrapped up tight in glamour’s grip. Just one kiss and you
let it slip. Now you’re caught in my sweet mission by spells and satin
ribbons. No need for thunder, no magic wand,
just a whisper near the pond. I stitched your name in silver thread. And every
dream you’ve had since then, I’ve read. So don’t resist. You’re far too late.
I’ve charmed your luck and locked your fate. You call it love. You call it
smitten. But it spells and satin ribbons. Yes, it’s spells… and satin ribbons…that
tied you up just right. She walks through the mist with a
lantern glow. The silhouette sharp like a shadow show. Her heels tap secrets on
cobblestone in a town where the witches walk alone.
A locket of lavender round her throat. She hums old charms in a half-sung note.
Men have followed hearts forbidden caught by spells and satin ribbons. She
don’t need broomsticks, don’t need wands. She cast her magic with vintage
bonds, a wink, a twist, and midnight grins. You’re tangled up in her soft-sheen sins. Silk so smooth and lips like sin. You’re
doomed the moment you give in. She ties you tight. No superstition,
just spells and satin ribbons. A mirror cracked but lined with gold. A vanity full of secrets old. She paints her lips in bloodred hue,
And whispers names the wind once knew. She dances slow where jackals grin,
A séance tune on phantom violin. You’ll find her love where dreams are hidden beneath
those spells and satin ribbons. No curse or claw or creature’s claw could bind your soul with such quiet
awe. She hums in hex and sings in sighs, With stardust tucked in bedroom eyes. Forget your name, forget your mission,
You’re hers by spells and satin ribbons… She wrote her name in candlelight,
Sewn in silk on All Hallow’s Night.
The thread was gold, the vow unspoken,
A charm so soft it can’t be broken… So if she knocks past midnight’s door, don’t reach
for stakes or ancient lore. She’ll charm the locks, then tie you in with
heartstrings wrapped in vintage sin. No grave escapes, no ghostly missions,
just love in spells and satin ribbons.
And when she leaves, you’ll still be smitten,
marked by spell … and satin… ribbons.

Vintage Halloween music and magical autumn jazz songs that take you back in time, wrapping you in warmth and nostalgia. Perfect for relaxing, studying, working, journaling, cooking, baking, decorating, or simply enjoying the magic of fall evenings 🎃☕✨🍁🕯️

🎷 Tracklist:

00:00 Vintage Halloween
02:09 Porchlight Swing
05:02 Pumpkin Moon Parade
08:46 Shadow Waltz at Midnight
12:07 Trick-or-Treat Tango
15:16 Jack-o’-Lantern Jazz
18:35 The Ghost in the Gramophone
20:27 Autumn Vibes
22:52 Witching Hour Whisper
26:49 Velvet Voodoo Evening
30:19 Cobweb Cotillion
33:19 Swingin’ Spirits
35:47 Ghostlight Waltz
38:28 Mystic Vibes
40:57 Candlelight Creeps & Curtain Calls
44:21 Spells & Satin Ribbons
47:11 Locket of Lavender
51:13 Vintage Vibes
53:48 From the Old Radio
56:42 Boo-Bop Swing
59:08 After Dark Boogie

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🎵 Tracks composed by: Peaceful Reveries
🎥 Artworks and animation by: Peaceful Reveries
© Copyright Peaceful Reveries. Reuse of audio or video is not allowed.

#vintagemusic #halloweenmusic #1940smusic #vintagehalloween #autumnmusic #vintagesongs #nostalgicmusic #1950smusic #falljazz #oldsongs #swingmusic