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!
Down along the rocky shore
Some make their home,
They live on crispy pancakes
Of yellow tide-foam;
Some in the reeds
Of the black mountain-lake,
With frogs for their watchdogs,
All night awake.
of Ireland's Fairy Glen
where in the mist of dawn
it is alive with little men.
One says that if you go there
you must be careful where you tread
in fear that you might stand on
a little mans head.
And woe betide if you take something
from this mystical glen
you would have to return it
or bad luck they will send.
There once was a beautiful Colleen
who found love there one day
and a lad stole her heart
he took it far away.
She returned every morning
at the break of light
to see if he came back
with her heart he took that night.
For years she would wonder
retrace her steps in sadness
no more can she love a man
with no heart she has no gladness.
This day she sat all alone
by the foot of the glen
there before her startled eye
were three little men.
They told her of a frog
who lived beneath a tree
and if she were to kiss it
then her heart she would free.
That kiss was none too pleasant
but before her eyes was the lad
the same who took her heart
and left her very sad.
He told her that he was sorry
for her heart he stole away
and requested of her a second kiss
or a frog he'll have to stay.
She thought long and hard
then went to thank the little men
And told them to keep that nasty frog
and said she would not return to the glen.
Be careful what you take from here
return it or be woed
These little men from the fairy glen
always get back what they're owed
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