The Bagleydowns

It was grey and cold in the dream tree fog  
as if there dwelt a wizard or a witch,  
but there was nothing...but a rotting log,  
nourishing a fungus and oozing pitch  
setting the scene for the pixies and sprites  
and leprechauns with elves on holiday  
tripping on mushrooms and firefly lights,  
whose thoughts were psychotropic disarray,  
with the little people from Eriu land  
working the piano back in the ferns...  
making the keyboard appear extra grand  
as they all addressed acoustic concerns,  
which children may have at play in the trees...  
when fancy wasn't considered disease.