(Print) Use this randomly generated list as your call list when playing the game. There is no need to say the BINGO column name. Place some kind of mark (like an X, a checkmark, a dot, tally mark, etc) on each cell as you announce it, to keep track. You can also cut out each item, place them in a bag and pull words from the bag.
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I'm spun with precision. In the morning I glisten with dew drops. I’m a trap in the quiet night?
I float through the night, with a hauntingly pale glow, with a laugh or a sigh, I might make you jump,
I shine bright at night, a silvery sphere, lighting up the darkness, I bring both cheer and fear. In tales of werewolves, I play a big role.
I'm orange and slimy, with eyes on a string. My big toothy smile makes you laugh and sing.
I'm big and I'm green, with ears that are bright. Just one little tooth.
I'm orange and round, with a face that can scare,in fall, I'm a treat, in pies. On Halloween night, I light up the way.
With fur as dark as the midnight sky, I slink through the shadows, silent and sly.
I’m dark on the outside, with a twinkle so bright, inside I hold orange stars, a dazzling sight.
Round, black and old, I stand on a stove. In the dark of night, magic is made with mysterious potions and spices.
I have creaky floors and windows that moan, with cobwebs and shadows lurking in the dark.
I brew potions and spells with a flick of my wrist. In my pointed hat and a wand in my hand I cast my spells and make potions swirl.
I glide through the night with a cloak of deep hue. My feathers are black, but my wings shine in green too.
I fly in the dark, with wings spread wide, hanging upside down in caves. I navigate in the night.
With no flesh or skin, I'm a bony display, with empty eye sockets and teeth that don’t bite.
I twinkle at night, but I'm not a fire. In the vastness of space I light up the dark.
I'm a treat that’s shaped like a triangle, with colors of autumn in rows. I bring sweet delight in these festive times.
I sweep up the floors and help keep things neat. But with a flick of a wrist, I can take to the street. Riding through the night, I’m a witch’s best friend
I’m furry and purple with a greenish hue and a big goofy grin.
Wrapped up so tight, in linen I lie, from ancient tombs, where the pharaohs sigh.
I’m tall and pointed, black as the night, worn by a sorceress with magic in sight.
I stand tall and silent in the ground so deep, marking a memory for those who no longer sleep. With names and dates carved for all to see.
I hoot in the night with wisdom so bright. My feathers are green, my wings orange in flight.
I lurk in the shadows, my thirst is for red, with fangs that are sharp, I fear the sunlight.
I’m stitched up and strong, but not made of flesh, with bolts in my neck, I look quite a mess. Created by a man on a dark, stormy night.
I’m a crescent shape, with light on one side, only half of my face is shown in the sky. In the night I glow.
I soar through the night on my trusty old broom, with a cackle and a laugh and my pointed hat I soar through the sky.
I spin my web with delicate care, in corners and nooks, you’ll find me there. With eight tiny legs, I creep and I crawl.
