Buttercup! Buttercup! Hold your shining clusters up! In each little house of gold, What is this that I behold? Twenty soldiers, straight and slim, Golden-helmeted and prim. All day long so still they stand, Never turning head or hand; No one guesses where they stray In the moonlight nights of May. When the fairies are abroad, These small men keep watch and ward; Round the fairy ring they pace All night long, to guard the place; But when morning comes again, Back are all the little men.