Love Hunters On The Broom Lyrics

Now it is the time of night
That the graves, all gapping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,
In the church - way paths to glide.
And we fairies, that to run
By the triple Hecate's team
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic; not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallowed house:
I am sent with broom, before,
To sweep the dust behind the door.

W. Shakespeare