The Fairies
Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl's feather!
Down along the rocky shore
Some make their home,
They live on crispy pancakes
Of yellow tide-foam;
Some in the reeds
Of the black mountain lake,
With frogs for their watch-dogs,
All night awake.
High on the hill-top
The old King sits;
He is now so old and grey
He's nigh lost his wits.
With a bridge of white mist
Columbkill he crosses,
On his stately journeys
From Slieveleague to Rosses;
Or going up with music
On cold starry nights,
To sup with the Queen
Of the gay Northern Lights.
They stole little Bridget
For seven years long;
When she came down again
Her friends were all gone.
They took her lightly back,
Between the night and morrow,
They thought that she was fast asleep,
But she was dead with sorrow.
They have kept her ever since
Deep within the lake,
On a bed of flag-leaves,
Watching till she wake.
By the craggy hill-side,
Through the mossses bare,
They have planted thorn-trees
For pleasure here and there.
Is any man so daring
As dig them up in spite,
He shall find their sharpest thorns
In his bed at night.
Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl's feather!
~~Wiliam Allingham
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As I said in the beginning of our journey through Evermore, the shining ones have been much misunderstood and often maligned. Much of the lore you will read here has very little if anything to do with the beings the world has come to know as 'fairies'. You will read stories of causing harm, of stealing babies, of......well, you'll see. In reality these beings are kind and compassionate and have the highest regard for life and nature. They are beyond ancient, and yet have the innocence of a child. Their entire lives celebrate the beauty and magic of the earth. They greet each morning in awe of the promise of the day, and celebrate each starry night as if seeing it for the first time, because in fact, each night is brand new. Our eyes have grown dull to the ever-changing world around us, but the keen senses of the fae see every nuance, and revel in the miracle of creation every second of every minute of every day.
  
 
  
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