Little Jenny Has Gone A Roaming
by Arian Niwl

Little Jenny has gone a roaming
Up in the hills on a misty morning
And did not come down until the gloaming
She picked wildflowers from the moor
Before ascending to the top of the tor
To the standing stones of ancient lore
She danced to the music she heard that day
For hours on end she did laugh and sway
Then the Fairy Folk by hand took her away
Down from the hills little Jenny did come
No word past the men at their whiskey and rum
And straight to her bed as though quite dumb
She went to the church ringing bells on Sunday
Jenny’s lips moved but no verse did they say
And all was right until she touched the iron in the bay
No sound escaped as she touched that bar
Where the votives are set in their little jar
Not a sound, not a whisper to make or mar
But there before the stand did there lay
Naught but a bundle of leaves and hay
For the Fairy glamour has all slipped away
Little Jenny went a roaming one day
When the Fairy Folk then took her away
Leaving a changeling made of leaves and hay
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