Lyrics & Music: Maureen S. O'Brien, 1989
Insp: Well, I got the idea after reading _War of the Oaks_ by Emma Bull....
They're killin' off our forests; they're choppin' down our trees.
There's killers growin' drugs beneath the sacred rowan leaves.
We're tired of destruction; won't take it anymore.
We're gonna tell the mortals, "Stop!" before it comes to war!
And our bikes are made of silver, not of cold iron or steel;
And we love to watch the miles go by beneath the turnin' wheel.
See the Troopin' of the Sidhe. See the power of the Fey.
No mortal's gonna slow us down;
Better get out of our way.
We got black dragon leather jackets -- on the back, a silver tree.
Silver hair streams back into the wind, so long and fair and free.
We don't wear the mortals' helmets; they don't fit a pointy ear.
Mortals who see us, stop and stare; or else run fast in fear!
When we rode into Washington, we went singin' all the way.
We went to see their President; we went and had our say.
Now we're the forest rangers, our Queen's got a Cab'net vote
And anyone who litters gets an arrow in the _throat_! [snik motion]
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