There was an old woman Went blackberry picking Along the hedges From Weep to Wicking. Half a pottle-- No more she had got, When out steps a Fairy From her green grot; And says, "Well, Jill, Would 'ee pick 'ee mo?" And Jill, she curtseys, And looks just so. "Be off," says the Fairy, "As quick as you can, Over the meadows To the little green lane, That dips to the hayfields Of Farmer Grimes: I've berried those hedges A score of times; Bushel on bushel I'll promise 'ee, Jill, This side of supper If 'ee pick with a will." She glints very bright, And speaks her fair; Then lo, and behold! She has faded in air. Be sure old Goodie She trots betimes Over the meadows To Farmer Grimes. And never was queen With jewellry rich As those same hedges From twig to ditch; Like Dutchmen's coffers, Fruit, thorn, and flower-- They shone like William And Mary's bower. And be sure Old Goodie Went back to Weep, So tired with her basket She scarce could creep. When she comes in the dusk To her cottage door, There's Towser wagging As never before, To see his Missus So glad to be Come from her fruit-picking Back to he. As soon as next morning Dawn was grey, The pot on the hob Was simmering away; And all in a stew And a hugger-mugger Towser and Jill A-boiling of sugar, And the dark clear fruit That from Faërie came, For syrup and jelly And blackberry jam. Twelve jolly gallipots Jill put by; And one little teeny one, One inch high; And that she's hidden A good thumb deep, Half way over From Wicking to Weep. HAPPY, HAPPY IT IS TO BE "Happy, happy it is to be Where the greenwood hangs o'er the dark blue sea; To roam in the moonbeams clear and still And dance with the elves Over dale and hill; To taste their cups, and with them roam The field for dewdrops and honeycomb. Climb then, and come, as quick as you can, And dwell with the fairies, Elizabeth Ann! "Never, never, comes tear or sorrow, In the mansions old where the fairies dwell; But only the harping of their sweet harp-strings, And the lonesome stroke of a distant bell, Where upon hills of thyme and heather, The shepherd sits with his wandering sheep; And the curlew wails, and the skylark hovers Over the sand where the conies creep; Climb then, and come, as quick as you can, And dwell with the fairies, Elizabeth Ann!" [Illustration] THE MIDDEN'S SONG [Illustration] "Bubble, Bubble, Swim to see Oh, how beautiful I be. "Fishes, Fishes, Finned and fine, What's your gold Compared with mine?