Jack be nimble, Jack be kind,
come dance upon the burning vine.
Jack be nimble, Jack be quick,
come dance upon my fingertip,
come swim in my pupil, come swell in mine ear,
that I may hear your song echo o’er the blossoming green,
intoxicating melody of wind and wood,
that I may see your feather-like kiss upon the amorous sky,
green Jack, the apple of your mother’s eye.
Your voice, a balm, a wind that whistles,
your blood that fortifies both grass and grain ,
your eyes that blaze in wine and creeping thistles,
your laughter, the pitter patter of midnight rain.
Jack in the green and Jack in the box,
keen and wild-eyed, untamed and tender,
mischievous, mercurial, proud and precocious,
come tiptoe upon my windowsill,
across the ice and broken mirror.
Jack of the kiln, the cradle, of the homecoming hearth,
fierce as frost and fine as wine,
your bread of soil, your bed of bracken,
your feast of fruit and humble pie,
rider of the dragon, good friend of the fly.
Wild Jack whisper, Wild Jack whisper,
Wild Jack whisper unto me.
Jack be nimble, Jack be quick,
come dance upon my fingertip.
Jack be nimble, Jack be kind,
come set on fire, this heart of mine.

By Uriel