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!
They stole little Bridget
For seven years long;
When she came down again
Her friends were all gone.
They took her lightly back,
Between the night and morrow,
They thought that she was fast asleep,
But she was dead with sorrow.
They have kept her ever since
Deep within the lake,
On a bed of flag-leaves,
Watching till she wake."
For the whole poem see,
Scottishpoetrylibrary.org/uk/williamallingham
Also check You Tube
