A world of caves, caverns, thickets and ledges
A place of bracken, heather, thistles and sedges

Of Spider webs, mosses, mushrooms and hedges
Green grassy dells, craggy hills of ragged edges

Environments of enchantment, worlds of auld lore
Mysterious encampments of wee people of yore

Broad iron hinges on wee ancient oak doors
Behind which lie treasures on cool earthen floors

Oak roots brace ceilings, which green lichen adorns
Crude clever furniture, hewn from shells of acorns

Curly toed slippers, forest green pointy caps
Thistle down mattress on bunk bed for wee naps

Gossamer wings of wand wielding fairies
Flitting about o’er fields of silverberries

Leave scintillating trails of sparkling, luminary
Like tiny comets tails, of existence temporary

Trolls under bridges, mean tempered and grumpy
Grey unkempt hair, clothes soiled and frumpy

Short and squat, a bit ugly and dumpy
Big crooked noses and skin mottled and bumpy

Mysterious, wondrous worlds, of which man knows little
Beings and places neath and o'er the earths crust

Haunting sounds o’er glen from a wee golden fiddle
Trolls… moonbeams… leprechauns and stardust