Often found in hill and dale
Between the rain sleet and hail
Are the fairies soft and grey
Gentle water slyphs at their play
Sparkled edges diamantied bright
They catch each beam of splashed light
As dancing moths at twilight
And these fairies wild possess
The sharpness of being real
With fey spirits adequate
To extinguish any mortal roar
Able to undo any lock or door
Calm any animal of tooth or claw
These sprites in mischiefs hunt delight
To bring unusual calamity
Upon the head of pompous red faced barristers
Upwardly mobile young professionals
Or young ladies who believe
Their looks beguile more than they could
Are turned in moments to dry wood
A stump left in a clearing
Or withered rose or honeysuckle
From whom no more endearments flow
So if you see the sparking
The unreal reality of fairy shimmering
Do not seek out to embrace that light
For it shines for their delight alone
And woe be the mortal fool
Who thinks he is worthy of it too.