Those ole,' sky-high birch trees grew askew
- due to the harsh an' relentless winds that blew
- through those high an' rolling, golden prairies.
Tis' that place where all o' the remaining Fairies  
- tended to merrily roam an' call their home.
Tis' there where all the weeds're overgrown
-an', yet, no one, much, seems to mind
- for it all seems ta' be perfectly designed;
-- an' nothing could ever change it's beauty
-- less, o' course, humans should choose ta' act crudely.