They’re sleeping beneath the roses;
Oh! kiss them before they rise,
And tickle their tiny noses,
And sprinkle the dew on their eyes.
Make haste, make haste;
The fairies are caught;
We’ll put them in silver cages,
And send them full-dress’d to court,
And maids of honor and pages
Shall turn the poor things to sport.
Be quick, be quick;
Be quicker than thought;
Their scarves shall be pennons for lancers,
We’ll tie up our flowers with their curls,
Their plumes will make fans for dancers,
Their tears shall be set with pearls.
Be wise, be wise;
Make the most of the prize;
They’ll scatter sweet scents by winking,
With sparks from under their feet;
They’ll save us the trouble of thinking,
Their voices will sound so sweet.
Oh stay, oh stay:
They’re up and away: