The Fairies

The Fairies by William Allingham

Up the airy mountain,
down the rushy glen,
we daren’t go a-hunting
for fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
trooping all together;
green jacket, red cap,
and white owl’s feather!
Down along the rocky shore
Some make their home-
They live on crispy pancakes
Of yellow tide-foam;
Some in the reeds
Of the black mountain lake,
With frogs for their watch-dogs
All night awake.
By the craggy hillside,
Through the mosses bare,
They have planted thorn-trees
For pleasure here and there.
Is any man so daring
As dig one up in spite.
He shall find their sharpest thorns
In his bed at night
Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen.
We daren’t go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl’s feather!

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The Fairies

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