Fall in Green - The Fairy Feller's Master-Stroke

Fay woodman holds aloft the axe
Whose double edge virtue now they tax
To do it singly and make single double
Featly and neatly, equal without trouble

She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate stone
On the forefinger of an alderman
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep
Her wagon spokes made of long spinners' legs
The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers
Her traces, of the smallest spider's web
Her collars, of the moonshine's watery beams
Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film
Her wagoner, a small gray-coated gnat
Not half so big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid
Her chariot is an empty hazelnut
Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub
Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love

Written by:
Deborah Edgeley

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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