when a day can occupy a single hour.
Oh, for a pixie mound,
that glitters so brightly in the washed' sun.
Oh, for an elven tor,
where the sweet song of steel rings out in dulcet tones.
Oh, for a gnomish noll,
a cozy home of tartlets and cinnamon.
Oh, for a goblin's mount,
full of shadowy corners and cobwebbed dreams.
Oh, for an imp's abode,
a game of tag, a trill of titters.
Oh, how I long to be under my hill,
where time has no construct,
where light never fades,
where battle is joyful,
where fare is delectable,
where darkness lurks,
where merriment abounds.
To be home in my hill,
with the ones that I love.