Where e’er you live in Ireland,
In a cottage or on farm,
Care for the little people,
Nor ever do them harm.
And when you reap your harvest,
And gather up the seed,
Think of the little people,
Nor grudge them what they need.
And when you go a milking,
Some cream and butter spare,
And we the little people,
Will pay for our share.
Around your fields and hedges,
We’ll weave a charm,
None in that magic circle,
Can ever come to harm.
Happy will be your homestead,
Shoulder high grow your corn,
Your cattle be the finest,
That ever yet be born.
T’were best to heed this warning,
Or you may rue the day,
You scared the little people,
And frightened them away.
Larne Times, 1952