Wee Folk (Read Only If You Believe) Poem by David Whalen

Wee People


Tis a pity and a shame, that no one knows me name
Tis a fact that I’m a hard to know little fellow
In the glens and the highlands, people know me fame
And the fact I carry gold that glitters yellow

Tis a fact that rainbows touch the sod…and
Where they touch, there be treasure
And that silken thread from thistle pod
Ties rainbows ends to heather

Me self and me kinfolk, nimble and quick
Know exactly where the rainbows end
And no mortal yet has managed to trick
A wee person into telling the where or the when

Mortals no longer believe in wee people and such
Tis a pity the magic they’ve lost
One should feel wonder and mystical touch
And cling tightly to magic at all cost

One hears haunting airs from plaintive pipes
In the mist that drifts down from the highlands
Wee peoples homes pierce though mountains mist
Float about like enchanted emerald islands

Leave some good Irish whiskey in a shallow silver dish
Suuure… for some crumpets and some scones we’d be beholden
And if it’s happy it would make you, as you leave, make a wish
But you must believe, to perceive of things magic, ancient and golden

O’er foggy loch and deep in misty glen
In the highlands and in the dell
Whether you believe in us or not, my friend
Wee folk and our treasure still dwell