NOT ACTUAL GAME FOOTAGE!
 
A Faery Ring lies atop the hill,
By the stream, by the mill,
Up the path and around the bend,
Past the trees that never end,
Over earth, over stone,
Walk up yonder to the Faery throne.

Now stand atop that hollowed hill,
Take a moment, stand quite still,
Feel the ancient power old,
Of wild tales and
Lustful legends of Faery gold.

This hill with secrets buried deep,
This Faery realm where roots do creep,
To hallowed halls underground,
Where the Faery folk may be found.
"A chair!" they cry.
"Sit down, enjoy our feast!",
But beware!
Do it not, decline at least,

They play their games, they talk a jig,
They love to trick those folk so big,
Whispered words,
Through crack and hollow,
To ears of foolish men who follow,
A lure to those who seek their gold,
A trap to bind and keep tight hold,
The greedy mortal whose heart is sold,
Forever trapped or withered old.

And whilst mortal men lie asleep,
The faeries dance, sing and leap.
Round the ring, round the ring,
Around the ring they go,
Twirling faster, never slow,
Spinning gaily, jumping higher,
The Faerie folk never tire.

A Faery Ring lies atop the hill,
By the stream, by the mill,
Up the path and around the bend,
Past the trees that never end,
Over earth, over stone,
Walk up yonder, but not alone.


Read more of Chris May's work at http://doggysdoings.blogspot.co.uk/