Up the Airy Mountain
We folk, good folk, trooping all together
Green jacket, red cap and a white house feather
Down along the rocky shores
We live amongst the mud pores
Eating crispy pancakes made from yellow tide foam
Up the Airy Mountain
Down the bushy glen
We daren't go hunting for fear of little men
High on a hill top and good king sits up
He is now so old and grey he cannot keep his wits up
There's music for the master, a cold starry night
While he sups with the Queen from the gay northern lights
And its..
Up the Airy Mountain
Down the bushy glen
We daren't go hunting for fear of little men
Near the Creaky Mountain lake, passed the mosses bear
There lies a fiery dragon without any hair
He sleeps in the day time and feeds at night
When we folk, good folk, stay from sight
Up the Airy Mountain
Down the bushy glen
We daren't go hunting for fear of little men