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Under the small folk live, making merry;
In the cave the goblins lurk, with buried treasure;
In the tree roots the worm lives, dreaming of blood;
This was their land before it was theirs.
We chopped down the enchanted woods,
With witches we slaughtered the worms;
We brought cold iron and hot belief to the world,
and we killed the fairy queen.
And though I know it mere foolishness,
still I dream of times when
the world was less mundane, less cold;
a true illustrated manuscript.
© Dubhóc MacEògainn, 2005.