I THINK I WILL JUST REST HERE ON THE STAIRS.
Pucks Song by William Shakespeare
Over Hill, over dale
Through brush, through brier
Over park, over pale,
Through flood and through fire,
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moone's sphere,
As I serve my fairy queen.
To dew her orbs upon the green.
The cowslips tall,
In their gold coats spots you see
Those be rubies, a fairies favours,
In those little freckles live their savours,
i must go seek some dewdrops here
as I hang a pearl in every flower.