Gaming

The old ones knew the signs and so they locked the nursery windows tight;
They said don't go outside on this strange, bitter cold midsummer's night,
And on the moors the night wind howls an old, familiar tune...
And through the hills our hunters ride, their bows turned towards the moon.
We're shooting for the moon.

You must have heard the tales; your parents told them to you in your youth,
And stories are like pearls -- they grow around the sharpest grains of truth.
You came here seeking wonder, and it's far too late to run.
You foolish child: we're only here to have a little fun.
We just want to have our fun.

        So run like deer or die like dogs out there among the mist and fogs
        Our hunters' arms are sure and strong, our arrows rarely miss;
        And if the live to see the dawn, you'll turn around and find us gone.
        So find a star to wish upon...
        We've no finer sport than this.  There's no finer sport than this.

                Don't tell us that we're evil or immortal or unkind:
                It's only that you're dealing with a different state of mind.
                Don't try to call us wicked for the things you say we've done;
                Now don't you know we only want to have a little fun.

Our magic knows the way to make you anything: the game's begun.
If you would see the day, then children, don't delay -- get up, and run!
On hoof and wing and paw now make your trails through the night:
Our revels have begun.  If you'd survive, you'd best take flight
On this sweet midsummer's night.

        So find a path and run away -- we'll chase you to the break of day
        For past the dawn we cannot stay, so pray our arrows miss.
        We choose the games; we rarely lose, and you'll be playing by our rules.
        And mortal children are such fools...
        We've no finer sport than this.  There's no finer sport than this.

                Don't tell us that we're evil or immortal or unkind:
                It's only that you're dealing with a different state of mind.
                Don't try to call us wicked for the things you say we've done;
                Now don't you know we only want to have a little fun?

The faerie courts are always out to have a little fun.

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