LESSON 5 THE WATTLE FAIRIES

THE WATTLE FAIRIES

wattle fair-ies swing-ing

fluff-y thistle stalks

breezes fam-i-ly through

rough-ly laughed whisper

sprites blos-som

Some little yellow fairies

　Were swinging on a tree,

They were the dearest little things

　That ever you could see.

A SPRAY OF WATTLE

The fluffy hair all round them

　Was soft as thistle down;

But these wee fairies held on tight

　To little stalks of brown.

They swayed about so gently

　While softest breezes blew.

And, every day, more fairies came;

　And so the family grew,

Till all the trees were golden—

　Yes, every tiny spray,

And every little yellow elf

　Was happy as the day.

At night those little fairies

　Oft washed their hair with dew;

But, when the morning sun got up,

　He dried their hair right through.

Did winds blow round them roughly,

　It was such jolly fun;

They swung up high and then down low,

　And laughed till it was done.

Now, dears, I'll whisper softly,

　Who were those sprites so airy?

The tree, it was a wattle tree,

　Each blossom was a fairy.

—CHRISTIAN B. COUTTS