Chorus Seven hundred elves from out the wood Foul and grim they were Down to the farmer's house they went His meat and drink to share There was a farmer in the west and there he chose his ground He thought to spend the winter there and brought his hawk and hound He brought with him both hound and co*k alone he begged to stay And all the deer that roamed the wood had cause to rue the day He felled the oak, he felled the birch, the beech nor poplar spared And much was grieved the sullen elves at what the stranger dared He hewed him baulks and he hewed him beams with eager toil and haste Then up and spake the woodland elves: "Who's come our wood to waste?" Chorus Up and spake the biggest elf and grimly rolled his eyes: "We'll march upon the farmer's house and hold on him a**ize He's knocking down both wood and bower, he shows us great disdain We'll make him rue the day he was born and taste of shame and pain." Chorus All the elves from out the wood began to dance and spring And marched towards the farmer's house their lengthy tails to swing The farmer from his window looked and quickly crossed his breast "Oh woe is me," the farmer cried, "The elves will be my guests." In every nook he made a cross and all about the room And off flew many a frightened elf back to his forest gloom Some flew to the east, some flew to the west, some flew to the north away And some flew down the deep ravine and there forever stay Chorus