Song 4

Come follow, follow me,Ye fairy elves that beLight tripping o'er the green,Come follow Mab your queen:Hand in hand we'll dance around,For this place is fairy-ground.

When mortals are at rest,And snoring in their nest,Unheard and unespied,Through key-holes we do glide;Over tables, stools, and shelves,We trip it with our fairy elves.

And if the house be foul,With platter, dish, or bowl,Up stairs we nimbly creep,And find the sluts asleep;Then we pinch their arms and thighs;None us hears, and none us spies.

But if the house be swept,And from uncleanness kept,We praise the household maid,And duly she is paid:Every night before we go,We drop a tester in her shoe.

Then o'er a mushrooms headOur table-cloth we spread;A grain of rye or wheatThe diet that we eatPearly drops of dew we drink,In acorn cups fill'd to the brink.

The grasshopper, gnat, and fly,Serve for our minstrelsy;Grace said, we dance awhile,And so the time beguile:And, if the moon doth hide her head,The glow-worm lights us home to bed.

O'er tops of dewy grassSo nimbly we do pass,The young and tender stalkNe'er bends where we do walk;Yet in the morning may be seenWhere we the night before have been.