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Green Glen

Come, gather near to the smouldering fire
The ember, aflame, will console and inspire!

Sit in the glade when the faerie muse comes,
Magick is made with the flick of our tongues!

Oh, dance with the sidhe under silvery moon!
Word woven trance, is the light of their boon.

Bear ye the hearts of all mortal men --
Dance with the fae in the boughs of Green Glen.

- Ferrashynn -