On Benbulben Slope

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In this century
of great engines,
spinning-jinnies
and printing presses
with the hum of their wheels
and clatter, plus the matter
of black coated lecturers
with their tumblers of water,
one surely guesses,
one surely knows, that
this rattle of noise
has risen high
into the meadows and groves
right to the Kingdom of Goblins,
the Realm of fairies
Many dare say
It has silenced
their dancing feet
and no longer does
a human heart beat
with delight or fright
for they no longer
believe
in the fairies.
However, I will
have you know,
this is not so,
not under the brown
thatched roof
of old biddy Hart
nibbling her griddle cakes
close by the hearth
within her cottage
on Benbulben slope,
Her fairy friends
are alive and well
and there is much
she can tell
of those who inhabit
the green thorn-covered hill
up there behind
her house,
if you will
listen.

(A combination of W.B. Yeats words and my own, inspired by his book Irish Folk Tales)

Song = https://newbuds.bandcamp.com/track/on-benbulben-slope-01