Columbkill he crosses,
On his stately journeys
From Slieveleague to Rosses;
Or going up with music
On cold starry nights
To sup with the Queen
Of the gay Northern Lights.
They stole little Bridget
For seven years long;
When she came down again
Her friends were all gone.
They took her lightly back,
Between the night and morrow,
They thought that she was fast asleep,
But she was dead with sorrow.
They have kept her ever since
Deep within the lake,
On a bed of flag-leaves,
Watching till she wake.

By the craggy hill-side,
Through the mosses bare,
They have planted thorn-trees
For pleasure here and there.
If any man so daring
As dig them up in spite,
He shall find their sharpest thorns
In his bed at night.
Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl's feather!

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances,
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's morefully of weeping than you
can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,.
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To to waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For to world's morefully of weeping than you
can understand. 

Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal-chest.
For be comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
from a world more full of weeping than you.

Their queen has youth and beauty rare,
The maids of earth are not half so fair.
Her glance so quick and her eyes so bright,
They shine with soft unearthly light.

She'll meet thee like a lady fair.
Go not, for danger awaits thee there!
She'll lead thee far over grove and glen,
And thou shall ne'er be seen again.

Perhaps in small blue diving bells
They plunge beneath the waves,
Inhabiting the wreathed shells 
That liein coral caves
Perhaps in red Vesuvius Carousals they maintain
And cheer their little spirits up 
Till green leaves come again
Till green leaves come again.

When back they come there'll be glad mirth
And music in the air,
And fairy wings upon the earth,
And mischief everywhere 
The maids, to keep the elves aloof, 
will bar the doors in vain,
No keyhole will be fairy proof
When green leaves come again
Till green leaves come again.

There are fairies at the bottom of our garden!
They oftenhave a dance there on summer nights;
The butterflies and bees make a lovely breeze,
And the rabbits stand about to hold the lights.
Did you know that they could sit upon the moonbeams
And pick a little star to make a fan,
And dance away up there in the middle of the air?
Well, they can.

There are fairies at the bottom of our garden!
You cannot think how beautiful they are;
They all stand up and sing when the Fairy Queen and King
Come gently floating down upon their car.
The King is very proud and very handsom;
The Queen--now you can quess who that could be?
(She's a little girl all day, but at night she steals away)
Well, it's me!

So a fairy sung
From the leaves I sprung
He leapd from the spray
To flee away
But in my hat caught
He soon shall be taught
Let him laugh let him cry
He's my butterfly
For I've pulld out the Sting
Of the marriage ring.