Rarely are they seen

With wings so thin and fair,

Clad in leaves so green,

Spun moonlight for their hair.

They swim in musty bogs,

Their homes in hoary oak,

With toads for their watchdogs,

But they just sit and croak.

If any is a tomnoddy,

To tramp across their den,

They'll find their captive body,

Inside the fair folks glen,

Nobody could hope the catch them,

they're much to clever for that,

But if you hap'n upon the little men

They'll trick you, without an eyelash bat!

But if your exceptionaly clever,

You can get granted a wish,

But beware trust them never,

Instead of riches, a fish!

They're tricksy and they're liars,

And if you ever spite them,

They'll stuff your pillow with briars!

Beware the little men.

They have a fairy queen,

With hair of raven black

But she is cross and mean,

And loves a fairy head to crack!

That is my tale of little men,

Who live in hoary oak,

Inside their fairy glen,

With toads who sit and croak.

              T. J. Weller 1/30/07

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