There’s going to be a party, <br />we’ve made a fairy ring, <br />to celebrate the birthday <br />of Finn, the fairy king. <br /> <br />His majesty announced it <br />for everyone to hear. <br />I’m making the arrangements <br />while Murphy brings the beer. <br /> <br />I’ve invited cousin Michael, <br />Himself from Donegal, <br />the scrawny Sean McCafferty <br />and Padraic Mor McCall. <br /> <br />The Queen of Connemara <br />has promised she’ll be there, <br />wearing her best tiara <br />and moonlight in her hair. <br /> <br />Mick Doyle will play his fiddle <br />while Connelly calls the tune. <br />We’ll dance a fairy two step <br />beneath a fairy moon. <br /> <br />And any mortal, passing by <br />will never hear a sound, <br />for deaf the ear and blind the eye <br />when fairy folk abound. <br /> <br />Each tiny elf and fairy, <br />each magic Leprechaun, <br />will dance the dance of angels <br />until the break of dawn. <br /> <br />Then, when the evenings over; <br />Before the brand new day, <br />the toadstools and the clover <br />must all be put away. <br /> <br />Though Humankind may look askance <br />upon our fairy ring, <br />they’ll never know we held a dance <br />in honour of our king.<br /><br />Thomas Vaughan Jones<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-dance-of-the-little-people/
