THE SONG OF THE GREAT KNAPWEED FAIRY

Oh, please, little children, take note of my name:
To call me a thistle is really a shame:
I'm harmless old Knapweed, who grows on the chalk,
I never will prick you when out for your walk.

Yet I should be sorry, yes, sorry indeed, To cut your small fingers and cause them to bleed; So bid me Good Morning when out for your walk, And mind how you pull at my very tough stalk.