There was an old woman

        Went blackberry picking

Along the hedges

        From Weep to Wicking.

Half a pottle --

        No more had she got,

When out steps a Fairy

        From her green grot;

And says, "Well, Jill,

        Would 'ee pick 'ee mo?"

And Jill, she curtseys,

        And looks just so.

"Be off," says the Fairy,

        "As quick as you can,

Over the meadows

        To the little green lane,

That dips to the hayfields

        Of Farmer Grimes:

I've berried those hedges

        A score of times;

Bushel on bushel

        I'll promise 'ee, Jill,

This side of supper

        If  'ee pick with a will."

She glints very bright,

        And speaks her fair;

Then lo, and behold!

        She had faded in air.

Be sure Old Goodie

        She trots betimes

Over the meadows

        To Farmer Grimes.

And never was queen

        With jewellery rich

As those same hedges

        From twig to ditch;

Like Dutchman's coffers,

        Fruit, thorn, and flower --

They shone like William

        And Mary's bower.

And be sure Old Goodie

        Went back to Weep,

So tired with her basket

        She scarce could creep.

When she comes in the dusk

        To her cottage door,

There's Towser wagging

        As never before,

To see his Missus

        So glad to be

Come back from her fruit-picking

        Back to he.

As soon as next morning

        Dawn was grey,

The pot on the hob

        Was simmering away;

And all in a stew

        And a hugger-mugger

Towser and Jill

        A-boiling sugar,

And the dark clear fruit

        That from Faerie came,

For syrup and jelly

        And blackberry jam.

Twelve jolly gallipots

        Jill put by;

And one little teeny one,

        One inch high;

And that she's hidden

        A good thumb deep,

Halfway over

        From Wicking to Weep.

                        -- Walter de la Mare