For fear of little men.
Wee folk, good folk
Trooping all together,
Green jacket, red cap
And white owl’s feather.”
They were keeping step and singing, rather brokenly, for Noreen was thinking of her man and Mrs. Dana seemed searching, in a blur of moving men upon a weary road, for a little boy––a very little boy.
“Now, then,” Noreen insisted, “we can sing it betterer this time.
“Green jacket, red cap
And white owl’s feather.”