The Ancient Scotsman

The Fairies live beside the grotto, at the bottom of the garden.

At the back of the house, owned by the ancient Scotsman.

Each day he takes them little gifts, wrapped in the finest silk ribbon.

And the nymphs reward the ancient Scotsman, looking after his many sons.

He has more than twenty sons this is his claim to fame.

And all are like peas in a pod and each have a similar name.

Mac Tavish, Mac Moniggle, Mac Gurk, this is to name but a few.

All are very good-looking, except the one that’s called Mc Pugh.  

The fairies have lived in the garden as long as anyone can remember.

And each and every year they  have a festival, towards the end of September.

They work all the year round to prepare, for their wondrous celebration.

Cup cakes lemonade and a funfair, and everyone full of expectation.

The elves sit around in colored suits, magic whistles playing wonderful tunes.

Moles dig crazy tunnels underneath, the soft and wet sand dunes.

Constructing mazes that amazes them all.

Canaries sit in the apple trees giving their tuneful call.

In the streams behind the grotto, gold fish and sea horses swim in harmony.

Touching noses in perfect synchronicity.

Leprechauns dance jigs, tell jokes, that are ever so witty.

The goldfishes and sea horse live in an magical under water city.

They party from daybreak till night.

And when day turns to night fireflies provide the light.

The dusk is alive with little pods of brilliance.

Jasmine scents the air with an astonishing fragrance.

When the celebration is over, they all part as very good friends.

Looking forward to the next years jubilation, as on the Ancient Scotsman they will descend.

He watches them as they leave, with a little tear in his eye.

But next year will come round soon enough, so this isn’t  really goodbye.