by Nick Gisburne
Be ready, fairy sisters. We are near
Beyond the fence, beyond the crooked gate
Is all the Fey were ever taught to fear
A creature born of ignorance and hate
Beware. The scent of sugar is a trap
A drug to trick your magic with its taste
Dismiss it with the fury of a flap
And never lick a lollipop in haste
The target of our mischief, of our spell
Is sleeping in what humans call ‘a tent’
Beneath the socks, protected by their smell
A menace only mortals might invent
He thinks he rules these fairy fields alone
But steal it. He will die without his phone
