I was wandering home from the pub on the moor
When I met the hairy fairy,
I'd drunk but a bottle (you're keeping the score?)
I've been sober since courting my Mary.
Those comforting bottles of blonde-headed brew
Were the love of me life for a decade of two,
But now they’re replaced by a lady of sense…
So I’d sunk but a bottle, and that's my defence.

The evening was fine at the pub on the moor
When I met the hairy fairy,
I'd said my goodnights, and I'd marched out the door
On my way back to visit my Mary.
The jeers of my mates brashed me over the ears
And I felt like my laughter was bottled with tears,
But I know what I need; I was sober, I say…
I was heading for wedding, no call to delay.

The moon had come up near the pub on the moor
When I met the hairy fairy,
My will and my want and my wish were at war
And I knew I should be with my Mary.
Though I used to see double, and pink pachyderms
I'm a sober man now, and it's on the right terms,
But down by my ankles I heard a small yap
And I bent down and spotted a cute little chap.

I was down on me knees near the pub on the moor
When I met the hairy fairy,
The tiniest winged-dog of fantasy lore
And I wanted to share him with Mary.
He was chestnut and white with the curliest tail
And some little embellishments marked him a male,
So I tickled his tum and round under his wings
And, Johnny, he was a miraculous thing.

I hastened away from the pub on the moor
Where I met the hairy fairy,
I'd never seen anything like him before
So I carried him off for my Mary…
But the smart little chap, letting fly with the yaps
Aroused all the wee folk from supper (or naps)
And they tripped me up hard to recover their dog…
So that's why you found me face-down in the bog.

Johnny, you've known me since I was a child
So stop looking solemn and wary,
You know that I'm honest and lacking in guile,
And I'm sworn to be married to Mary.
So just because I was tipped into a bog
After I borrowed a little winged-dog
Is it fair that they say I was drunk on that night?
I ask you now, John, is that nice? Is it right?

I was wandering home from the pub on the moor
When I met the hairy fairy,
I'd drunk but a bottle (you're keeping the score?)
I'll be sure to explain it to Mary.
But I cannot deny it will seem like a lie
'cause nobody else saw that little dog fly…
So if Mary should jilt me for lying and gin
I expect I could bear it… I might even grin!