Interpret:

Jethro Tull

Album:

Broadsword and the Beast

When we're working nights, the village round 
the old church becomes scary town. 
All curtained windows and bolted doors 
but never a eye to see 
as us fairy folks sweep from the hill. 
Never caught us and never will. 
Pulling roses and daffodils 
mayhem in the high degree. 


The blacksmith chased us all to ground. 
They searched all night we were never found. 
The tinker boys and the sheriff's men 
shaking the tallest tree. 
And we sat and watched the women hide. 
Laughed so much we split our sides. 
Scattered horses that they would ride 
mayhem in the high degree. 


We crossed through fields of midnight green 
often heard but seldom seen. 
Tore along hedges,stripping leaves 
no-one could quite agree 
whether we came from north or south. 
We stole the screams from out their mouths 
and go where no man would allow 
mayhem in the high degree. 


Like scaly carp and feathered swan 
to nature's world we do belong. 
We ride the thin winds of the night 
and set dark spirits free. 
We terrify the mare and foal. 
The fox stood still and far too bold. 
So we strung him up, brush neatly folded; 
mayhem, maybe.