John McCullagh February 1, 2006
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There’s them that’s afeard of the fairies
Aye – right up to this present day –
Sure the stories the oul’ folk come over
Can never be let astray!


This woman went out till her milkin’
Forenenst a lonely tree
An’ the fairies, they leapt through its branches
And scarred her – in their glee!

The hawthorn, they burned with their magic
Its flames were fierce and bright –
But ’twas seen, when the fairies had vanished
Its blossoms, all pure and white.

A lone man, he lived up the forth way
An’ as he lay in he’s bed
There came, waftin’, a lilt of sweet music
That continued till run through he’s head.

At daybreak he lifted he’s fiddle
An’ l’arned all the fairies’ croon
But he nivir let on to the livin’
The way that he came by he’s tune!

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