Classic Poem

When I was young, I had no sense,
I bought a fiddle for eighteenpence,
And the only tune that I could play,
Was Over The Hills and Far Away.

To learn another I had no care,
For oh! it was a bonny air,
And all the wee things of the glen
Came out and gathered round me then.

The furry folk that dwell in wood,
Quitted their hushed green solitude,
Came round about me, unafraid,
And skipped to the music that I made.

Birds of the moor, birds of the tree
Took up the tune with fiddle and me;
Happy were we on that summer day
With Over The Hills and Far Away.

I hied me up on the lone hill road
Where the Little Green People have their abode,
And fiddled to them on the ruined cairn
Till they all came out from the rush and fern.

With gossamer threads the fields were laid,
That shimmered like silk where the sunlight played,
Quick over them hurried the fairy throng
And danced to the strains of the darling song.

Their gowns were made of the linnet's feather,
Their hats of the purple bells of heather,
And oh! how they chuckled with elfin glee
To the zig-a-zig-zig of my minstrelsy!

'Twas I was the Captain of that band
That played with me in fairy land,
Till the moon leaned over the hills to stare,
And see who fiddled the fairy air.

Fr-r-rip!—the furry folk turned and fled,
And every bird to the thicket sped.
In a flash my fairy friends were gone,
And fiddle and I were all alone.

I sold my fiddle to buy a drum,
But never again did the fairies come,
And all the bliss of that happy day
Is Over the Hills and Far Away.