Roger Whittaker

Roger Whittaker - Fairytale

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Roger Whittaker - Fairytale

The first of the sunrays are cast on my home of pine needles

as I wake to the sounds of the wood from my dandelion bed

and I gaze through my small cobweb curtains, down through the arches

that are made from the wings of the bees & the moths that are dead

Fairytale children are dancing like jewels in the morning

caterpillar skin boots & green velvet suits catch the sun

the butterfly aeroplanes land on a runway of roses

and the policemen cockroaches are standing by watching the fun

I hear three bluebells ringing in a steeple of heather & roses

I can hear them so clear as I glide by on dragonfly wings

and the gamekeeper fairy who lives in a mushroom nearby

plays a lute made of pinewood & oak and plucks cottonwool strings

The last of the sunrays are leaving the floor of the wildwood

as the phantom black beetle arrives on the wings of the bat

the grasshopper coachmen are harnessing mice to my carriage

and the four coachlight fireflies are put into place by the rat

Farewell to the appleseed pavements and moss covered roadways

the tall mushroom castles, fairytale children and all

I may never again chance to fly upon dragonfly wings

or wake where the morning sun shines on a pine needle wall

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