The Wee People
Deep within the forest green
Sometimes heard but seldom seen
Dwell the wee people of this land
Strong of heart as well as hand
Their dress is simple but quite quaint
Lasses in pointed shoes and dresses daint
Lads in coats of color and caps of felt
Trousers to the knee with braided belt
On summer nights with moon on high
They dance and sing neath starry sky
They boil fine stew for all to share
Spinning olden tales with an Irish flair
Flasks of ancient brew are tipped
Welcomed by each thirsty lip
They speak of gold in whispered tones
Hidden in places all unknown
Their origin is a mystery for all to ponder
Some say they are gypsies meant to wander
Some believe they are gnomes with magic powers
Mixing concoctions from twigs and flowers
Whatever the truth may actually be
There is one fact upon which all can agree
Their lore and myth have given much pleasure
Spawning magical stories for all to treasure.
©Copyright Chares Gragg May 4, 2010
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