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 Clouds peel over the glowing horizon.
A spark of magic and the cry of the night.
The creatures are out,
In mischeif they delight.
Their tongues are sharp,
Feet are fast,
A flight of fancy their wicked path.
Two lovers in the dewy grass,
Their passion etched in stone.
Their fingers clad in shiny brass,
Love has set the tone.
But to the east lies a current,
A current of faires all lined in a row.
Off to work their devious deeds,
Many at work, working like bees.
No consequence too strong,
Or love too mighty,
To make these pixies
Weak and tiny.
So there in lies our fairy story,
So there in lies the fairy glory.