Dead Now, and their Beliefs With Them

Dead now, and beliefs with them
That under trees fairies consort
And we say we're not superstitious
Yet alone we leave the fairy tree and fort.

Tales were told of when were lost
In a fairy fort at night
To be found by morning
Highly confused but all right
After walking round in circles
Their way they could not make
Today we blame the whiskey
For causing their mistake

And maybe it was the whiskey
But that spoils the romance
Of the story, and of our culture
Can we not believe in the chance
That maybe the fairies were angry
At this drunkard at their tree trunk
That they cast a spell to make him walk in circles
Until he sobered and was not drunk?