At night in the hamlet, a noise broke the silence. A quite small pixie named Stick
Was napping in the forest just round midnight or so, she fancied she heard
Her name being called thru the wood by some lover. She sat there by her snail shell hut like an intoxicated hobbit, then she crept on down to the dale, and spied
Wee little fireflies dancing in the air like nightlights flown by daring pilots with no particular place to go.