Young Wicklam was a fairy sprite
Born one bright and starlit night
But unlike those in Fairy Wood
Young Wicklam liked to do no good

Instead he liked to play mean jokes
On all the other fairy folks
He’d taunt them all and play mean tricks
Like cutting off their candle wicks

Or putting pepper in their stews
And chocolate pudding in their shoes
He caused the fairies so much grief
They begged his parents for relief

His father tried to give his son
A tailor’s trade that he’d begun
But though he learned the tailor’s trade
A single stitch was never made

One final time his father pled
For him to change the life he led
He gave Wicklam a gift so bold
A needle made of purest gold

But Wicklam never gave him thanks
And kept on playing foolish pranks
He angered all the fairies there
And went about without a care

Beyond the edge of Fairy Wood
A little run down cottage stood
And there a widowed farmer dwelled
With a little girl whose love he held

While out in search of fun one day
Wicklam spied the girl at play
She had a little dolly dear
And spoke to it with Wicklam near

“Dolly you’re my dearest friend
I’ll love you ‘til the very end
My Mommy put her love inside
And left you here before she died”

As Wicklam watched some boys came by
And stole her doll to make her cry
The little crying girl gave chase
As they began to run and race

All of them pulled on the toy
A piece was grabbed by ev’ry boy
The little doll was torn apart
It broke the small girl’s tiny heart

The boys all shrugged then off they fled
Just laughing at the tears she shed
Her father heard her as she cried
And saw the doll there at her side

He saw the pieces on the ground
And knew that no hope could be found
The best of tailors could not mend
The remnants of his daughter’s friend

Without the doll the farmer knew
His daughter would be very blue
He put the pieces of the doll
Into the trash beside the wall

Tomorrow would be Christmas day
And so the girl began to pray
Between her prayers the babe would weep
And finally cried herself to sleep

Wicklam watched and then he felt
Something that caused his heart to melt
While listening to the small girl cry
He felt a tear fall from his eye

He stood beside the cottage wall
And looked at pieces of the doll
He took each shred and bit of foam
And quickly sped back to his home

Back home the little fairy took
The golden needle from its nook
And without pause began to sew
Just why? Perhaps we’ll never know

But other fairies watched in awe
As a masterpiece of art they saw
For none had seen such skill displayed
Like Wicklam’s golden needle made

The tattered cloth became anew
As back and forth his fingers flew
Stitches sewn with golden thread
Had soon repaired the dolly’s head

A piece of rainbow sewn in streaks
Put radiant glow upon its cheeks
The golden needle flashed and then
A smile was sewn across its chin

The little dress that was in shreds
Was soon repaired with stardust threads
As sweat poured off young Wicklam’s face
He trimmed the dress with moonlight lace

All through the night the fairy sewed
As through his fingers magic flowed
Every stitch was put in place
With skillful hands and perfect grace

Then just before the dawn had neared
A perfect piece of work appeared
Where once a pile of rags had been
A beautiful doll now sat again

All trimmed in gold and moonlight lace
A warming smile upon its face
With bits of starlight in its hair
It sparkled in the morning air

Then all the fairies gathered near
Began to jump about and cheer
Then Wicklam took his work of art
And quickly readied to depart

He placed the doll next to the bed
Of the little girl with a note that said:
My darling child, this gift of love
Was sent from Mommy up above

In Fairyland that Christmas morn
A little miracle was born
And when a heart requires a lift
They think of Wicklam’s Christmas gift

And in that cottage still and small
A young girl hugs a special doll
She wears a smile so bright and fair
The answer to a Christmas prayer