  "Will-o'-the-wisp! Will-o'-the-wisp! Show me your lantern true! Over the meadow and over the hill, Gladly I'll follow you. Never I'll murmur nor ask to rest, And ever I'll be your friend, If you'll only give me the pot of gold That lies at your journey's end." Will-o'-the-wisp, Will-o'-the-wisp, Lighted his lantern true; Over the meadow and over the hill, Away and away he flew. And away and away went the poor little boy, Trudging along so bold, And thinking of naught but the journey's end, And the wonderful pot of gold. Will-o'-the-wisp, Will-o'-the-wisp, Flew down to a lonely swamp; He put out his lantern and vanished away In the evening chill and damp. And the poor little boy went shivering home, Wet and tired and cold; He had come, alas! to his journey's end, But where was the pot of gold? |
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