Behold the booths of gingerbread,
Of nougat and of peppermints,
The stall of toys where overhead
Balloons of gay translucent tints
Float on the breeze and drift and sway;
Fruit of a fairy vine are they.
Within this green fantastic grot
Bright-coloured balls are danced and spun
On jets ("'Ere, lovey, 'ave a shot");
A gipsy lady tends a gun,