by Christian Coutts
Some little yellow fairies
Were swinging on a tree
They were the dearest little things
That ever you could see
The fluffy hair all round them
Was soft as thistle down
But these wee fairies held on tight
To little stalks of brown
They swayed about so gently
While softest breezes blew
And every day, more fairies came
And so the family grew
Till all the trees were golden
Yes, every tiny spray
And every little yellow elf
Was happy as the day
At night those little fairies
Oft washed their hair with dew
But when the morning sun got up
He dried their hair right through
Did winds blow round them roughly
It was such jolly fun
They swung up high and then down low
And laughed till it was done
Now dears, I’ll whisper softly
Who were those sprites so airy?
The tree, it was a wattle tree
Each blossom was a fairy.
From a 1948 Australian school reader.
Image: Canberra Museum and Art Gallery exhibition, Wattle, Edwin Ride’s collection of objects featuring Australia’s floral emblem. The exhibition illustrates the development of wattle as a symbol of Australia over the last 150 years.
