The Witch’s Balloons
Opposite the nursery sat a woman old and
brown,
I should think she was the very oldest person
in the town,
She sold balloons to children as they passed
her corner there,
She was very cross and horrid and she had a
nasty stare.
I looked at her one morning, on a very
windy day,
And she saw me and she stared at me in such
a nasty way,
I felt afraid, and certain sure that she must be
a witch,
And keep all sorts of stolen treasures hidden
in a ditch.
And as I looked at her, and she was staring up
at me,
I saw a fairy flying low from out the chestnut
tree,
She held a little knife, and oh, she cut the
strings right through,
That held the big balloons together, then away
she flew!
And off went all the purple ones and off went
all the pink,
A-flying in the air as high as ever you could
think,
Around the chimney pots, and right away up
in the sky,
Until they bumped into the clouds, a-sailing
slowly by.
And then I looked to see what that old woman
had to say,
But there wasn’t any sign of her, she’d
vanished right away,
She must have been a wicked witch, and by
the fairies slain,
For tho’ I’ve looked each morning, she has
never come again.