Un-Fairie Queen

An un-fairie queene from an unchivalrous tale lumping and clumping off beaten tracks down beaten ones so beaten that they click and crack criss-crossed with crabgrass so tall that it looks like some fiendish crag it crassly sticks to soles and copiously feasts on clothes not only that there are the pools mighty, classy and cool clamouring loud and clear to be given their due for they are the sole claim to fame of those grumpy roads they welcome cars with their clip-clop and lure them to splosh to splash the passers-by Then comes that tired un-fairie queene holding a ray of hope clinging to it lest it slip and fall and though dim it is she still believes it can bring some light and touch some souls That’s what she has her feet of clay but come what may she will forever have faith in her fairy ray.