This image is Generated using Midjourney V7 software then i process in photoshop.

Thank you for your visit and faves and comment.

This image is Generated in Ai, Midjourney v7 then i process in photoshop.

Thank you for your visit and faves and comment.

prompt

The Celtic Fairy & the Mystic Bird Fantasy Illustration Prompt A luminous Celtic fairy hovers beneath the sprawling boughs of an ancient oak, silver mist coiling around its gnarled roots. Her crystal-gleaming form radiates soft moonlit light, delicate translucent wings veined with starlight. Her flowing hair shimmers like solstice fire, catching warm amber highlights against the cool emerald glen. Each graceful wingbeat seems to ripple the air itself. Perched upon a twisted branch beside her, a mystic bird of impossible plumage watches with knowing eyes of polished amber. Its feathers shift hues with the wind emerald to sapphire to molten gold iridescent and softly glowing. Its talons rest gently yet powerfully against the bark. They move together through the enchanted valley, weaving silver threads of magic that transform dew into luminous pearls and unopened buds into gilded blossoms. The air sparkles with unseen enchantments. Ancient highland stones rise faintly in the distance through drifting mist. The atmosphere is ethereal, cinematic, painterly yet highly detailed, volumetric light rays filtering through leaves, rich greens and soft golds, magical realism, ultra-detailed textures, soft depth of field, high dynamic range, fantasy concept art. No watermark, no signature, clean image.

ar16.9 --v7 --raw --stylize 150

This image is Generated in Ai, Midjourney v7 then i process in photoshop.

Thank you for your visit and faves and comment.

prompt

The Celtic Fairy & the Mystic Bird Fantasy Illustration Prompt A luminous Celtic fairy hovers beneath the sprawling boughs of an ancient oak, silver mist coiling around its gnarled roots. Her crystal-gleaming form radiates soft moonlit light, delicate translucent wings veined with starlight. Her flowing hair shimmers like solstice fire, catching warm amber highlights against the cool emerald glen. Each graceful wingbeat seems to ripple the air itself. Perched upon a twisted branch beside her, a mystic bird of impossible plumage watches with knowing eyes of polished amber. Its feathers shift hues with the wind emerald to sapphire to molten gold iridescent and softly glowing. Its talons rest gently yet powerfully against the bark. They move together through the enchanted valley, weaving silver threads of magic that transform dew into luminous pearls and unopened buds into gilded blossoms. The air sparkles with unseen enchantments. Ancient highland stones rise faintly in the distance through drifting mist. The atmosphere is ethereal, cinematic, painterly yet highly detailed, volumetric light rays filtering through leaves, rich greens and soft golds, magical realism, ultra-detailed textures, soft depth of field, high dynamic range, fantasy concept art. No watermark, no signature, clean image.

ar16.9 --v7 --raw --stylize 150

This image is Generated in Ai, Midjourney v7 then i process in photoshop.

Thank you for your visit and faves and comment.

prompt

The Celtic Fairy & the Mystic Bird Fantasy Illustration Prompt A luminous Celtic fairy hovers beneath the sprawling boughs of an ancient oak, silver mist coiling around its gnarled roots. Her crystal-gleaming form radiates soft moonlit light, delicate translucent wings veined with starlight. Her flowing hair shimmers like solstice fire, catching warm amber highlights against the cool emerald glen. Each graceful wingbeat seems to ripple the air itself. Perched upon a twisted branch beside her, a mystic bird of impossible plumage watches with knowing eyes of polished amber. Its feathers shift hues with the wind emerald to sapphire to molten gold iridescent and softly glowing. Its talons rest gently yet powerfully against the bark. They move together through the enchanted valley, weaving silver threads of magic that transform dew into luminous pearls and unopened buds into gilded blossoms. The air sparkles with unseen enchantments. Ancient highland stones rise faintly in the distance through drifting mist. The atmosphere is ethereal, cinematic, painterly yet highly detailed, volumetric light rays filtering through leaves, rich greens and soft golds, magical realism, ultra-detailed textures, soft depth of field, high dynamic range, fantasy concept art. No watermark, no signature, clean image.

ar16.9 --v7 --raw --stylize 150

Pussycat, pussycat

Where have you been?

I've been up to London

To visit the Queen.

Pussycat, pussycat

What did you there?

I frightened a little mouse

Under her chair.

English. First published in Songs for the Nursery, in 1805.

Red Sky at Night

Red sky at night, sailors' delight.

Red sky at morning, sailors' warning.

One of the oldest weather sayings in the English language, with roots in the Bible.

Nature's Fury, Golden Hour's Grace

A dramatic AI-generated panoramic landscape capturing the raw, contrasting power of a severe supercell shelf cloud rolling over a rugged coastline.

To the left, cold, violent lightning strikes pierce the heavy downpour over a churning, white-capped sea. To the right, the breaking storm clouds catch the intense, fiery glow of a golden hour sunset, illuminating the sweeping green cliffs, a solitary lighthouse, and a winding coastal road below.

Note: This image was created using an AI tool, Google Gemini, as part of my creative process and refined in Lightroom / Luminar Neo. While I strive for realism, this is a digital generation and not a photograph.

2026 Keith Jones All Rights Reserved.

Rain, rain go away

Come again another day.

Rain, rain go away

Little Johnny wants to play

English. First mentioned by James Howell in his 1659 collection of proverbs.

Lavender's blue, dilly, dilly

Lavender's green

When l am King, dilly, dilly

You shall be Queen!

Call up your men, dilly, dilly

Set them to work

Some to the plough, dilly, dilly

And some to the pond.

Some to make hay, dilly, dilly

Some to cut corn

While you and I, dilly, dilly

Keep ourselves warm.

If you should die, dilly dilly, as it may hap,

You shall be buried, dilly dilly, under the tap;

Who told you so, dilly dilly, pray tell me why?

That you might drink, dilly dilly, when you are dry.

English. The earliest surviving version of the song is in a broadside printed between 1672 and 1679, under the name Diddle Diddle, or The Kind Country Lovers.

The original version of this rhyme was bawdy as it implied that just because a young man loved his sweetheart she had to sleep with him’ The most suggestive verses were removed and the rest cleaned up for children.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary

How does your garden grow?

With silver bells,

And cockle shells,

And pretty maids all in a row

English. First published in “Tommy Thumb’s Pretty Song Book” in 1744.

There are several interpretations on the meanings of this rhyme based either around Queen Mary 1 of England, also known as Bloody Mary, or Mary Queen of Scots. The most interesting is the theory about Queen Mary 1, who while trying to reintroduce Catholicism into England, executed hundreds of Protestants. “Silver bells” and “cockle shells” may refer to torture devices used by Mary’s executioners.

Nobody likes me, everybody hates me,

I think I'll go eat worms!

Big fat juicy ones,

Eensie weensy squeensy ones,

See how they wiggle and squirm!

Down goes the first one, down goes the second one,

Oh how they wiggle and squirm!

Up comes the first one, up comes the second one,

Oh how they wiggle and squirm!

I bite off the heads, and suck out the juice,

And throw the skins away!

Nobody knows how fat I grow,

On worms three times a day!

Nobody likes me, everybody hates me,

I think I'll go eat worms!

Big fat juicy ones,

Eensie weensy squeensy ones,

See how they wiggle and squirm!

American. Children's folklore passed down orally. There are references to it as early as the 1860s

Little Poll Parrot

Sat in his garret

Eating toast and tea;

A little brown mouse

Jumped into the house,

And stole it all away.

English. Originates in the seventeenth century. The earliest published version was in a collection by James Orchard Halliwell in the 1840s

I'm a little teapot

Short and stout

Here is my handle

Here is my spout

When I get all steamed up

Hear me shout

Just tip me over and pour me out!

I'm a special teapot

Yes, it's true

Here's an example of what I can do

I can turn my handle into a spout

Just tip me over and pour me out!

American. The song was written by George Harry Sanders and Clarence Z. Kelley and published in 1939

The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout.

Down came the rain and washed the spider out.

Up came the sun, and dried up all the rain,

and the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again.

American. The origins of the rhyme are unknown, but it was first published in Arthur Walbridge North’s 1910 book, Camp and Camino in Lower California

Hush-a-bye, don't you cry,

Go to sleep my little baby.

When you wake you shall have

All the pretty little horses.

Black and bays, dapples, grays,

All the pretty little horses.

Hush-a-bye, don't you cry,

Go to sleep my little baby.

Hush-a-bye, don't you cry,

Go to sleep my little baby.

When you wake you shall have

All the pretty little horses.

Jack Sprat could eat no fat.

His wife could eat no lean.

And so between them both, you see,

They licked the platter clean

Jack ate all the lean,

Joan ate all the fat.

The bone they picked it clean,

Then gave it to the cat

English. The saying was recorded as an English proverb as early as 1639 in a collection by John Clarke.

Cock a doodle do!

What is my dame to do?

Till master’s found his fiddlingstick,

She’ll dance without her shoe.

Cock a doodle do!

My dame has found her shoe,

And master’s found his fiddlingstick,

Sing cock a doodle do!

Cock a doodle do!

My dame will dance with you,

While master fiddles his fiddlingstick,

And knows not what to do

Baa, baa, black sheep

Have you any wool?

Yes sir, yes sir

Three bags full.

One for my master

And one for the dame

One for the little boy

Who lives down the lane.

It's raining, it's pouring.

The old man is snoring.

He bumped his head and went to bed

And he couldn't get up in the morning.

American. The earliest written record of comes from Edwina Stanton Babcock’s short story “The Proving of the Prophet,” published in a 1909 issue of “The Outlook”

This rhyme is said to be a classic description of a brain haemorrhage leading to drowsiness and death. Raining and pouring could be used to describe excessive drinking, followed by an accident that had led to a coma.

Little Jack Horner

Sat in the corner,

Eating a Christmas pie;

He put in his thumb,

And pulled out a plum,

And said “What a good boy am I!”

English. Henry Carey wrote this nursery rhyme in 1725 as a satirical poem.

The target of this rhyme was political opportunism and greed.

One explaination of this rhyme connects Jack Horner with Thomas Horner, the steward to Richard Whiting, the abbot of Glastonbury Abbey, during Henry VIII's Dissolution of the Monasteries. Whiting prepared a large Christmas pie containing the deeds to twelve properties. The pie was to be sent to Henry VIII as a bribe to protect Glastonbury Abbey. It is said that on the trip to London, Horner removed one of the deeds from the pie and claim the property for his own family.

Oranges and lemons,

Say the bells of Saint Clement's.

You owe me five farthings,

Say the bells of Saint Martin's.

When will you pay me?

Say the bells of Old Bailey.

When I grow rich,

Say the bells of Shoreditch.

When will that be?

Say the bells of Stepney.

I do not know,

Say the great bells of Bow.

Here comes a candle to light you to bed,

And here comes a chopper to chop off your head!

Pancakes and fritters,

Say the bells of Saint Peter's.

Two sticks and an apple,

Say the bells of Whitechapel.

Old Father Baldpate,

Say the bells of Aldgate.

Pokers and tongs,

Say the bells of Saint John's.

Kettles and pans,

Say the bells of Saint Ann's.

Brickbats and tiles,

Say the great bells of Saint Giles'.

Here comes a candle to light you to bed,

And here comes a chopper to chop off your head!

Chip chop chip chop the last man is dead.

English. First published in “Tommy Thumb’s Pretty Song Book” in 1744

It is felt that the rhyme simply developed over time to remember the different areas of London which will have been defined by their churches. The last lines were added later and are thought to reference executions at Newgate prison. The prison was next to St Sepuchre’s church, and the bells of the church would signal the start of any hangings to take place that week.