Classic Poem

Come, follow, follow me,
You fairy elves that be
Which circle on the green,
Come, follow Mab, your queen,
Hand in hand let's dance around,
For this place is fairy ground.

When mortals are at rest,
And snoring in their rest,
Unheard and unespied
Through keyholes we do glide;
Over tables, stools and shelves,
We trip it with our fairy elves.

Upon a mushroom's head
Our table-cloth we spread;
A grain of rye or wheat
Is manchet, which we eat;
Pearly drops of dew we drink
In acorn-cups fill'd to the brink.

The grasshopper, gnat and fly,
Serve for our minstrelsy;
Grace said, we dance awhile,
And so the time beguile;
And if the moon doth hide her head,
The glow-worm lights us home to bed.

On tops of dewy grass
So nimbly do we pass,
The young and tender stalk
Ne'er bends when we do walk;
Yet in the morning may be seen
Where we the night before have been.