Whoompasmurfs

Let the rain fall and wash the filth of the earth
Wash the hair on fair maiden’s head
The valley small as it may be, lays
On the Celtic plains of the ancients

Sun sets and rises
Dew drops sparkles as diamonds would
Sounds of the butterfly wings flutter
And the earth is at peace

No one sees
People small as peas, hiding under leaves
The whoompasmurfs
Kissing the flowers to sleep
Innocent looking they may be
Yet not defenseless

Be there a foe nearby
Fire breathers they become
Sharpening their wee axes
Ready for encounter

The enemy runs
With tails draped over their shoulders
When seeing such a terrifying sight

Run they do and cry
‘What evil this be’