by Nick Gisburne
The Fairy Man has brought the break of day
He seeks to sell his novelties by noon
We gather round the trinkets on the tray
The treasure of a silent, silver moon
Impatiently, we scan the crowded cart
To search for something precious, something new
What curios, what mystifying art
Will catch our gaze before he passes through?
Exquisite living dolls, on chains and hooks
Exotic fairies, captured as they fled
We know them from the stories, from the books
Such talismans protect us from their spread
We bake and burn their bodies, cased in clay
To keep their fairy wickedness away
