Words and Music Copyright © by W. Scott Snyder- All Rights
Used by permission
Walking through the green green hills, on a warm midsummer's day
I heard a sound which puzzled me, so I turned and walked that way
The faintest sounds of music, seemed to drift upon the breeze
And I came upon a wondrous sight, the kind a mad-man says he sees
A dozen tiny ladies, with crytal clear dragonfly wings
Were dancing there in circles, three glittering dainty rings
And there upon a fallen log were five tiny winged men
With banjo, bass, fiddle and guitar - and a tiny mandolin
And they sawed on the fiddle with a little tiny bow ...
You shoulda seen the fingers on that Mandolin go ...
When the banjo took a break, the Bass played along ...
The guitarist drank fey whiskey, but he still could play the song
I tried to remain hidden, but a branch broke at my heel
Which brought a sudden stop the the delightful little reel
They looked at me, surprised and mad, my intrusion was a sin
Until I said "Um - pardon me - you mind if I sit in?"
(Of course) I had my guitar with me on my merry mountain jog
And I showed them, as I walked around to sit upon the log
Their eyes began to sparkle, and they gave a little cheer
And they poured for me a thimble full of thick dark fey-brewed beer
We played through everything we knew, traded licks and spun some yarns
And now and then we'd pass around fey whiskey in a jar
We played all through the evening, we played all through the night
And the next thing I remember, was the early mornin' light
It seems that I had gone to sleep sometime the night before
And I woke up by that fallen log, where we had played and drank and
But the fey folk, they had left me, And I swear that this is true
In the clearing where we danced and sang, the grass had all turned blue