


Illustration by Vera Stone Norman ~ Poem by Mary Howitt
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The Caldon-Low was a place where faries were supposed to meet for dancing.
"And where have you been, my Mary,
"And what did you see, my Mary,
"And what did you hear, my Mary,
"Oh! tell me all, my Mary,
"Then take me on your knee, mother;
"And their harp strings rung so merrily
"And what were the words, my Mary,
"Some of them played with the water
"'For there has been no water
"Oh, the miller, how he will laugh
"And some they seized the little winds
"'And there,' they said, 'the merry winds go
"'Oh, the poor, blind widow,
"And some they brought the brown lintseed,
"'Oh, the poor, lame weaver,
"And then outspoke a brownie,
"'I've spun a piece of hempen cloth,
"With that I could not help but laugh,
"And all on the top of the Caldon-Low
"But coming down from the hilltop
"And I peeped into the widow's field,
"And down by the weaver's croft I stole, "Now this is all I hear, mother, |
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