I am off down the road
where the fairy lanterns glowed
And the little pretty flitter-mice are flying
A Slender band of grey
It run creepily away
And the hedges and the grasses are a-sighing.
The air is full of wings,
And of blundery beetle-things
That warn you with their whirring and
O! I hear the ting horns
of enchanged leprechauns
And the padded feet of many gnomes a - coming!
O! the lights! o! the gleams! O! the little twinkly
O! the rustle of their noiseless little robes!
O! the echo of their feet-of their happy little
O! the swinging lamps in the starlit globes.
There may be fairies at the bottom of the garden.
There is no evidence for it, but you can't prove that there
arent' any, so shouldn't we be agnostic with respect to