Early in the mornings,
when children are still sleeping,
Or late, late at night-time,
beneath the summer moon,
What are they doing,
the busy fairy people?
Could you creep to spy on them,
in silent magic shoon,

You might learn a secret,
among the garden borders,
Something never guessed at,
that know one knows or thinks:
Snip, snip, snip, go busy fairy scissors,
Pinking out the edges
of the pedals of the Pinks!