By the craggy hillside,
       Through the mosses bare,
     They have planted thorn-trees,
       For pleasure here and there. 
     Is any man so daring
       As dig them up in spite,
     He shall find their sharpest thorns
       In his bed at night.

     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!

FOOTNOTES: 

[17] By William Allingham.

THE ADVENTURES OF THE LITTLE FIELD MOUSE

Once upon a time, there was a little brown Field Mouse; and one day he was out in the fields to see what he could find.  He was running along in the grass, poking his nose into everything and looking with his two eyes all about, when he saw a smooth, shiny acorn, lying in the grass.  It was such a fine shiny little acorn that he thought he would take it home with him; so he put out his paw to touch it, but the little acorn rolled away from him.  He ran after it, but it kept rolling on, just ahead of him, till it came to a place where a big oak-tree had its roots spread all over the ground.  Then it rolled under a big round root.

Little Mr Field Mouse ran to the root and poked his nose under after the acorn, and there he saw a small round hole in the ground.  He slipped through and saw some stairs going down into the earth.  The acorn was rolling down, with a soft tapping sound, ahead of him, so down he went too.  Down, down, down, rolled the acorn, and down, down, down, went the Field Mouse, until suddenly he saw a tiny door at the foot of the stairs.

The shiny acorn rolled to the door and struck against it with a tap.  Quickly the little door opened and the acorn rolled inside.  The Field Mouse hurried as fast as he could down the last stairs, and pushed through just as the door was closing.  It shut behind him, and he was in a little room.  And there, before him, stood a queer little Red Man!  He had a little red cap, and a little red jacket, and odd little red shoes with points at the toes.

“You are my prisoner,” he said to the Field Mouse.

“What for?” said the Field Mouse.

“Because you tried to steal my acorn,” said the little Red Man.

“It is my acorn,” said the Field Mouse; “I found it.”

“No, it isn’t,” said the little Red Man, “I have it; you will never see it again.”

The little Field Mouse looked all about the room as fast as he could, but he could not see any acorn.  Then he thought he would go back up the tiny stairs to his own home.  But the little door was locked, and the little Red Man had the key.  And he said to the poor mouse,—­

“You shall be my servant; you shall make my bed and sweep my room and cook my broth.”