'Neath the shade of a daisy, just two inches high,
A poor little fairy sits weeping alone;
She says, “What a desolate creature am I,
My Lord Rubadub has the heart of a stone!
“He will not allow me to dance on a cherry,
To swing in a cobweb, or ride on a bee;
He tells me to hush when I want to be merry,
Which is hard on a gay little fairy like me.
“Our queen is so delicate, dainty, and dear,
But I fear she will marry my Lord Rubadub.
He struts at her side with a lounge and a leer,—
I wonder she'll look at the dandified cub!
“To fly from the court I announced my intention,
But Rubadub says (and I fancy 'tis true),
I must serve seven years, or I'll not get my pension;
So what is a poor little fairy to do?
“Lord Rubadub's head is as large as my house;
His legs stride as far as the north from the south;
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