While strolling through the woods in Cottingley,
Chris stumbled on a splendid fairy ring.
His mates had warned him not to walk that way,
because he'd anger Ron, the fairy king.
But Chris was not a boy who feared the fay,
believing such to be but fairy tales,
and for this mindless myth had dawned the day
to hammer in the final coffin nails.
He smiled and stepped onto the hallowed ground,
with confidence he'd never come to harm.
That's when he heard a harsh and eerie sound.
A girl with wings appeared, to his alarm.
She winked and grinned, then said, “You must be Chris.”
And when he answered, “Y-yes,” he got a kiss.
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