At the edge of the woodland
Where good fairies dwell,
Stands, on the look-out,
A brave sentinel.
At the call of his bugle
Out the elves run
Ready for anything,
Danger or fun,
Hunting or warfare,
By moonshine or sun.
With bluebells and campions
The woodlands are gay,
Where bronzy-leaved Bugle
Keeps watch night and day.