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lost childhood poems
Posted by: Johelga (192.168.128.---)
Date: December 22, 2006 12:02AM

does anyone remember a poem that started:-
Up the airy mountains,
down thw rushy glen
we dare not go a hunting
for fear of little men
Wee folk, good folk
hunting all together.......

and I know it ended "and white owls feather"
but cant remember the bit in between as I remember it from primary school in Kenya in 1948!!


Re: lost childhood poems
Posted by: james kane (192.168.128.---)
Date: December 22, 2006 01:47AM

here i go again hunting in your quote should be trooping and final verse same as first james kane


Re: lost childhood poems
Posted by: Johelga (192.168.128.---)
Date: December 22, 2006 02:33AM

thanks as I said it was a long time ago!!!!


Re: lost childhood poems
Posted by: lg (Moderator)
Date: December 22, 2006 03:04AM

Here you go:





The Fairies
--William Allingham

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 gray
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 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 mosses 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 the thornies set
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.




Les

Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 12/22/2006 03:05AM by lg.




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