Down in the Glen at the end of the day
when the night's on the move
are the pixies at play.
I have seen them
dancing when
they thought nobody saw
I have seen them
and the clothes that they wore
were so bright
against the onset of night and the Queen
I have seen her sweet and demure
I have seen her
of that I am sure.

When the grass lays still aside the base of the hill
and the chill in the air
has a certain cool charm
take my arm.
Let us not tarry
let us not slide
for we must away to hide
stay silent and bide with me
we will assuredly see
the procession of lights.

And the Pixies set seal
between the true and unreal
and appeared as the Sun hid away
I watched as they ate
until the evening was late and the magic was high.
When you've got to ask why
because you don't really know
if what you see isn't part of some elaborate show
and you think it's a hoax
the joke's on you.
Pixies are true to belief
and believe it or not
Pixies have got their own world that very few see.

I have seen them
when down in the glen
when the day's slipped away
and often I pray that I'll see them again.
But silently see, that the Pixies will be
timid and shy.
I don't know how
don't know why
but this understanding that stands under his sky
is my joy.