Vanessa Mae, violin Reflection
(The Fairy Fiddler by Ethel Archer) Away, in the misty moorland glen Where the ElfFolk dance with the Wee Brown Men, And the rowanberry burns haughtily As she tells of the wind s inconstancy Tis there I am bound by the far faint rune Of the Fairy Fiddler s silver shoon Where the harebell waves from the tufted grass, There never the foot of a man may pass; For the painted fireflies glance and gleam Like the golden thoughts in a goblin s dream, And the ghostly coppice of oak and br, br,
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