Blake was one unlucky bloke
Who was carried off by fairy folk.
He went where men should never go,
Deep in the wood where the mugworts grow.

He swears he was pixie led
Confused and befuddled in his head.
When he wandered onto unfamiliar ground
And stumbled too near the fairy mound.

The fairies said "You're too near
We really don't want you here."
The fairy queen arrived on the double
To make sure he'd cause no trouble.

With silver moonbeams and fairy dust
Deep into her spell poor Blake was thrust,
And foolishly in the dream he trusts,
Eating honeyed cakes with golden crusts.

He drinks silver goblets of cold white wine
While dancing, singing and feeling fine.
Believes he's won the most wondrous prizes,
But all is lost when the morning star rises.

The fun is over for poor Blake
When he awakes at dawn beside the lake
Cold and shivering in the drizzling rain
His body and head throbbing with pain.

He takes his aching head in his hands
His hair in dreadlocks and tangled strands.
Eyes paining from what they shouldn't have seen
Knowing he's ventured where he shouldn't have been.