The Oakmen Of Naddle Forest

Sit down, be silent
Gather around the fire
The breeze sits gentle
Warm your bones and heed these words.

Fairy folks are in old oaks
Saplings sprung from the stumps of felled trees
The fairy wood in which they lurk
Is thrice cut copse and bereft of mercy.

Hush now, be silent now
Listen to these words I speak
The Oakmen of the forest
Meet them and you will weep.

Fairy folks are in old oaks
Their roots deep in the unseen realm
The fairy wood in which they lurk
An uncanny place after dusk.

Tempting people in to the copse
Fungus disguised as tempting fruits
To poison passers on their way
The pungent stench of mushroom decay.

The Oakmen of Naddle Forest
Forgotten folk of the British counties
Spawned from murdered old oak trees
The Oakmen of Naddle Forest.

Sit down, be silent
Gather around the fire
The breeze sits gentle
Warm your bones and heed these words.

Fairy folks are in old oaks
Saplings sprung from the stumps of felled trees
The fairy wood in which they lurk
Is thrice cut copse and bereft of mercy.

Hush now, be silent now
Listen to these words I speak
The Oakmen of the forest
Meet them and you will weep.

The Oakmen of Naddle Forest
Forgotten folk of the British counties
Spawned from slaughtered old oak trees
The Oakmen of Naddle Forest.

Oak is the king of the forest
That rests in bluebell seas
Damage them on a misty eve
A lost path they will weave.

Bluebells, bluebells
It is said
Bluebells, do not tread.