Working In Faerieland, With Utah Always On My Mind (v3)

I’m now in sunny elvenland
Where be is not the same as seem
With a steel-headed hammer in my hand
On a bridge over a small stream

There is no season in this place
It is spring and fall, winter and summer as well
This dwelling of the Faerie race
Who may weave an evening spell

They are in leaves and twigs unseen,
Running forever, unsaved and wild
Playful, smiling, cruel and ever keen
Merciless, cunning thieves of child

They may be born of Adam’s line.
But most certainly not of Eve’s
And when born of woman, it is not fine
To be mothered by the ladies of the leaves

And when a desperate mother tries
In sorrow to get her dear babe back
She is met with empty promises and lies
As compassion is a thing the Faerie lack

And writing this I do only without fear
Because I now already know
That my name no child shall bear
When finally underground I’ll go

But vengeful they still stole my tool
So, mothers, don’t let your children dwell,
In the land entered by brave and fool
Where the Fay weave their tricking spell.