Low Flying Fairy
By: Kate MacDonald-Dunbar
There's a fairy at the bottom of my garden,
A flower fairy, who seems delicate, ethereal, with style.
Although she has been known to sip a little nectar,
which is when you'll find her language becomes vile.
She is sweetness and light, from dawn to dusk
but when the moon comes up her darker side appears.
There's no more "Good day to thee" and, "How art thou?"
it's "feck thee," and "blow it out thine ears."
The next day she is always very sorry,
when told what filth she's uttered, is appalled.
Words like "fribble" and "fopdoodle" make her blush,
Then disbelief when certain phrases are recalled.
To see her look forlon is, frankly, pitiful
but she can't keep sipping ambrosia while in flight
the gnomes had even tried an intervention,
which was when she told them they were talking, er, rubbish
No one wants to clip her wings, that would be drastic
But being dive-bombed by a tipsy fairy, it's not good.
She's been given one more chance to kick the habit.
To stop using language which is rude and very crude.
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