So many are the children’s tales I have told,
of fairies mischievous and sometimes bold.
Tales of my ever growing little family mouse,
and of course my large old rambling house.
Not all the fairies are like this you know.
Some are very quick others quite slow.
All fairies have hearts of delicate gold,
They help all they can without being told.
Think back to when you were feeling blue,
Who was it that changed your very view?
Leprechauns are busy most of the day,
They often help wanderers to find their way.
All fairies have fine gossamer wings of lace,
All have a most beautiful yet childish face.
Magical things they learn when young,
Many good deeds they do go unsung.
Some in the fairies do not believe,
For this I will always deeply grieve.
They have been around me for many years.
The fairies even calmed my childish fears.
Now I am old and my hairs turned grey.
I see them more and more each day.
A doctor told me I suffered from hallucinations.
There is no such thing as the Fairy Nations.
For such nonsense as this I have no time.
I write about the fairies in my poetry rhyme.
Children and all those young in heart,
They will always take my knowing part.
For the fairies are here and here they will stay,
Till the last story teller has gone on his way.
of fairies mischievous and sometimes bold.
Tales of my ever growing little family mouse,
and of course my large old rambling house.
Not all the fairies are like this you know.
Some are very quick others quite slow.
All fairies have hearts of delicate gold,
They help all they can without being told.
Think back to when you were feeling blue,
Who was it that changed your very view?
Leprechauns are busy most of the day,
They often help wanderers to find their way.
All fairies have fine gossamer wings of lace,
All have a most beautiful yet childish face.
Magical things they learn when young,
Many good deeds they do go unsung.
Some in the fairies do not believe,
For this I will always deeply grieve.
They have been around me for many years.
The fairies even calmed my childish fears.
Now I am old and my hairs turned grey.
I see them more and more each day.
A doctor told me I suffered from hallucinations.
There is no such thing as the Fairy Nations.
For such nonsense as this I have no time.
I write about the fairies in my poetry rhyme.
Children and all those young in heart,
They will always take my knowing part.
For the fairies are here and here they will stay,
Till the last story teller has gone on his way.
