Rhymes for the Young Folk. Allingham William

THE FAIRIES.

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      Up the airy mountain,

      Down the rushy glen,

      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 watch-dogs,

      All night awake.

      High on the hill-top

      The old King sits;

      He is now so old and gray

      He's nigh lost his wits.

      With a bridge of white mist

      Columbkill he crosses,

      On his stately journeys

      From Slieveleague to Rosses;

      Or going up with music

      On cold starry nights,

      To sup with the Queen

      Of the gay Northern Lights.

      They stole little Bridget

      For