Inspired by a story of my fathers about a person who could not find their way into the house one night at a house supposedly built on a fairy fort site, admittedly it was after a feed of home brewed poitin!!!
A version told in the family is that the dude in question was him!…
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?