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Chorus |
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Seven hundred elves from out the wood |
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Foul and grim they were |
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Down to the farmer's house they went |
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His meat and drink to share |
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There was a farmer in the west and there he chose his ground |
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He thought to spend the winter there and brought his hawk and hound |
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He brought with him both hound and cock alone he begged to stay |
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And all the dear that roamed the wood had cause to rue the day |
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He felled the oak, he felled the birch, the beech nor poplar spared |
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And much was grieved the sullen elves at what the stranger dared |
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He hewed him baulks and he hewed him beams with eager toil and haste |
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Then up and spake the woodland elves: "Who's come our wood to waste?" |
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Chorus |
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Up and spake the biggest elf and grimly rolled his eyes: |
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"We'll march upon the farmer's house and hold on him assize |
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He's knocking down both wood and bower, he shows us great distain |
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We'll make him rue the day he was born and taste of shame and pain." |
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Chorus |
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All the elves from out the wood began to dance and spring |
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And marched towards the farmer's house their lengthy tails to swing |
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The farmer from his window looked and quickly crossed his breast |
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"Oh woe is me," the farmer cried, "The elves will be my guests." |
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In every nook he made a cross and all about the room |
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And off flew many a frightened elf back to his forest gloom |
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Some flew to the east, some flew to the west, some flew to the north away |
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And some flew down the deep ravine and there forever stay |
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Chorus |
