Knocking On Wood

Tap on the trees and the leaves will tell Whether the fairies wish thee well.

A primitive father once lived in a wood, With a primitive daughter of primitive mood, And a primitive wife who attended the pair And served them the choicest of primitive fare. The primitive daughter was fearful and shy And afraid of her life if a hare rustled by; The primitive wife had no valor at all And shivered and shook if a nut chanced to fall.

The father was often away at the chase, Or running with danger an obstacle race, And dreaded a loss in his primitive home, If e’er in his absence a peril should come. He dreaded, she dreaded, they dreaded all three, The sprites of the air and the sprites of the sea, The little gray gnomes that live down in the ground And the gossamer elves that in flowers abound.

It was only the fairies that lived in the trees, Whose spells could protect them from evils like these; And so, as they wended their primitive ways, And threaded the wood in its devious maze, They’d knock on a tree and would timidly say To the Spirit who might be within there that day: “Fairy fair, Fairy fair, wish thou me well; ’Gainst evil witcheries weave me a spell!”

Then keen would they listen with primitive ear, Their hearing made finer and sharper by fear; And soon would the leaves make a whisper’d reply: “Fear ye not, mortals, no harm shall come nigh!” Thus primitive mother and primitive child Protected themselves in the primitive wild, And e’en to this day is the practice made good When, to ward off disaster, we knock upon wood.