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Of wondrous lucky charm,
And at the door they planted me
To keep the house from harm,
They have no fear of witchcraft now,
Yet here am I today,
I've hung my berries from the bough,
And merrily I say:
"Come, all you blackbirds, bring your
wives, Your sons and daughters too;
The finest banquet of your lives
Is here prepared for you."
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dusty-grey As ancient pilgrims
toiling on their way. Like Thursday's
child with far to go, I stand,
All ready for the road to Fairyland;
With hood, and bag, and shoes, my name
to suit, And in my hand my
gorgeous-tinted fruit.
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Asking who this rogue may be?
Up to mischief, they suppose,
Perched upon the briar~rose.
I am nothing else at all
But a fuzzy-wuzzy ball,
Like a little bunch of flame,
I will tell you how I came.
First there came a naughty fly,
Pricked the rose, and made her cry;
Out I popped to see about it;
This is true, so do not doubt it!
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For don't you see A spotted thrush,
One thrush or two, Or even three,
In every laden elder-tree?
They pull and lug,
They flap and push,
They peck and tug
To strip the bush;
They have forsaken
Snail and slug;
Unseen I watch them, safe and snug!
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Is England's noblest tree;
Its hard-grained wood is strong and
good As English hearts can be.
And would you know how oak-trees grow,
The secret may be told:
You do but need to plant for seed
One acorn in the mould'
For even so, long years ago,
Were born the oaks of old.
Fairys of Spring
Fairys of Autumn
