Down by the lake side where the flowers grow in June,
Perched on a toadstool and gazing at the moon,
A group of infant faeries in the presence of their mam,
Sung their favourite song and danced to the midnight band.
On the bass was a frog and on percussion a rat,
The vocals a cricket and on rhythm a bat.
They played such sweet harmonies all through the night,
But soon disappeared in the bright morning light.