ââ¼â âââââââââââââ â¼â｡
Beyond the dancing grass and rolling hills,
Above the tallest castle and rusty tower mills,
Between the arched gates and asphalt lanes,
Through cracked mirrors and window panes,
ââ¼â âââââââââââââ â¼â｡
In a magical land lies the famed faerie folk,
Strange vowels and syllables in which they spoke,
Wings with unique designs spotted all around,
When they fly it makes the sweetest sound,
ââ¼â âââââââââââââ â¼â｡
They live in cottages with chubby hares,
Some folk handle flowers with such care,
Others are sentries posted in hidden watchtowers,
Protecting their home with unmatched powers,
ââ¼â âââââââââââââ â¼â｡
They've lived in Mothers Nature's palace for years,
They celebrate their success with food and good cheer,
When a new faerie is born from a baby's first word,
A festival is thrown and for miles their voices can be heard,
ââ¼â âââââââââââââ â¼â｡