FAIRYLAND:

Through the deep green & musty woods I go plodding, to fairyland I´m going,

Through the dingly-dell where the moon-moths dart & fireflies are glowing,

Where the pretty dainty fairies flitter & the mischievous baby pixies flutter,

Where the witches, over bubbling cauldrons, their sacred spellings mutter,

Where little red nut-kin squirrels, shy moles & the shiny ebony leathered bats,

Skitter & scuttle with their crunchy leafy playing, beneath dappled forest hats,

In passing I’m greeted, with hats doffed, by polite rotund & grinning gnomes,

Who have made in the ancient oak trunks, their snug secret & wooded homes,

Hidden behind ferns & seated on spotted toadstools, I spy cheeky little elves,

I tread softly on green mossy carpets, under which every little creature delves,

Looking up at the forest´s green canopy, a muted sun-dappled emerald ceiling,

And the great trunks of the wise old trees, with their silent, shedding, peeling,

The fragrances, the sky, the balmy air around me, all lend to this magical place,

Where all is swiftly glimpsed, & with a blink of an eye, disappears without trace,

By the babbling brook, I spy spry water Nymphs seated upon wet shiny river rocks,

Singing their watery songs, telling secret tales & combing their long golden locks,

Whilst the delicate breath of silvery Sylphs softly whisper their love from on high,

And as I tread on wispy clouds, all around me I hear the unseen voices gently sigh,

Flowers of the rainbow, with perfumes not known to man, in their millions, bloom,

While birds of jeweled feathers dart & fly, singing in melodious, cacophonous tune,

This is a magic land where sweet & fragrant breezes waft gently & so lullingly blow,

This wonderful utopia, warm & balmy, where the heather & four-leafed clover grow,

This place where the river giggles gaily & sweet smiles are grown on the laughing trees,

Nothing hurts, nothing´s mean, nothing stings, not even the little buzzing honey-bees,

In this soft land, all ladies are pretty, all babies are bonny & no man ever grows old,

Here, where life dosn´t rush, it´s never too hot & you´ll never ever feel the cold,

Merrybegots are swayed in their cots, cradled in the arms of the dewy leaves,

And dragonflies dip & dance to the tune of the sun, draping their golden sleeves,

I trip through fallen foliage; I wend with the wind & waft with the passing breeze,

I never want to leave this magical place, I beg, I plead & I pray on bended knees,

Whoever is listening & in charge of it all, I ask you to let me stay in this fairyland,

Where the little frogs sing, the great toads croak & where the otter holds my hand,

This magical place, where I´m told, exists only in my own life, in my weary little head,

A place where I visit each night, to where I go when I´m tucked up snug & safe in bed.