Song of Fairies Robbing an Orchard

We , the Fairies, blithe and antic,
Of dimensions not gigantic,
Though the moonshine mostly keep us,
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us

Stolen sweets are always sweeter,
Stolen kisses much completer,
Stolen looks are nice in chapels,
Stolen, stolen, be your apples.

When to bed the world are bobbing,
Then 's the time for orchard-robbing;
Yet the fruit were scarce worth peeling,
Were it not for stealing, stealing
...

Oberon, descend, we pray thee,
Lest a swift stick overlay thee.
Dogs are on the watch, and barking;
Eyes of mortals anti-larking.

Fairies dance about Bromius, and pinch and scratch him in chorus

Since by thee comes profanation,
Taste thee lo! scarification.
Thou shalt own, that in a twinkling
Thou hast got a pretty crinkling.
...
Now for all this store of apples,
Laud we with the voice of chapels.
Elves, methinks, were ordained solely
To keep orchard-robbing holy.

Home, then, home; let 's recreate us
With the maids whose dairies wait us;
Kissing them, with pretty grapples,
All midst junkets, wine, and apples.
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Author of original: 
Thomas Randolph
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