Come all ye hobbets, there be a sight ye's have te see Far ayond ye Shire Past ye Breeland mire In yonder mounten peaks snowy an misty Walk there yon giants, well sizen a ye burrow Their nose be long their tusks be strong Their ears wide a might a thorough! Come all ye hobbets, tis here yon Oliphans be prancen But dids ye knew secret a me te you that yon Oliphans can go a dancen? Grand yonder patriarch, comes a speak te I "O a ye little folk, O a merry ye provoke, Plays ye tune fer me, and nay ye wonder why!" Well! Here be well cold a snowen, how yon Oliphan stay warm? Wit a fluten toot an ye dancen foot shalls they go a dancen up a storm! Now! Come all ye Oliphans, come dancen now wit me! Far ayond ye Shire There shall be nay ire A yonder mounten peaks festive an merry!