The Sad Tale of Polly O’Rennick

At the foot of the hill she gathered her wits,
She wanted that pixie – she loved him to bits.
She flitted around drinking nectar from flowers,
To pluck up the courage – she’d been trying for hours!

The nectar was sweet and hallucinogenic,
And that little fairy (named Polly O’Rennick)
Was soon on her way to being high as a kite.
She must get her man before the daylight.

She gathered up gossamer, petals and dew,
And stitched them together – what a beautiful hue!
She bathed in a puddle, made face packs of mud,
And created  perfume from a tender rose-bud

She dressed in the finery she had just made.
She had to look sexy, she aimed to get laid!
The thought of his body now made her toes curl,
And that potent brew had her head in a whirl

All ready for action, she had two more sips.
It gave her ‘Dutch Courage’ and she licked her lips,
Excited with thoughts of the fun to be had
With that sexy, most wonderful, Faerie lad.

But alas, those last sips took her over the limit.
Unaware of the strength and the potency in it,
She tottered and staggered, then fell, in a heap,
And without more ado – she was fast asleep!

The picture is reproduced with the kind permission of Marcus Phillips. Please go to to see more of his fabulous work!

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