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These are both by Neil Gaiman, from his collection entitled "Fragile Things."

Instructions

Touch the wooden gate in the wall you never saw before
Say "please" before you open the latch,
go through,
walk down the path.
A red metal imp hangs from the
    green-painted front door,
as a knocker,
do not touch it; it will bite your fingers.
Walk through the house.  Take nothing.  Eat nothing.
However,
if any creature tells you that it hungers,
feed it.
If it tells you that it is dirty,
clean it.
If it cries to you that it hurts,
if you can,
ease its pain.

From the back garden you will be able to see the wild wood.
The deep well you walk past leads down to Winter's realm;
there is another land at the bottom of it.
If you turn around here,
you can walk back, safely;
you will lose no face.  I will think no less of you.

Once through the garden you will be in the wood.
The trees are old.  Eyes peer from the undergrowth.
Beneath a twisted oak sits an old woman.
    She may ask for something;
give it to her.  She
will point the way to the castle.  Inside it
are three princesses.
Do not trust the youngest.  Walk on.
In the clearing beyond the castle the
    twelve months sit about a fire,
warming their feet, exchanging tales.
They may do favors for you, if you are polite.
You may pick strawberries in December's frost.

Trust the wolves, but do not tell them
    where you are going.
The river can be crossed by the ferry.
    The ferryman will take you.
(The answer to his question is this:
If he hands the oar to his passengers, he
    will be free to leave the boat.
Only tell him this from a safe distance.)

If an eagle gives you a feather, keep it safe.
Remember: that giants sleep too soundly; that
witches are often betrayed by their appetites;
dragons have one soft spot, somewhere, always;
hearts can be well-hidden,
and you betray them with your tongue.

Do not be jealous of your sister:
know that diamonds and roses
are as uncomfortable when they tumble
    from one's lips as toads and frogs:
colder, too, and sharper, and they cut.

Remember your name.
Do not lose hope--what you seek will be found.
Trust ghosts.  Trust those that you have
    helped to help you in their turn.
Trust dreams.
Trust your heart, and trust your story.

When you come back, return the way you came.
Favors will be returned, debts be repaid.
Do not forget your manners.
Do not look back.
Ride the wise eagle (you shall not fall)
Ride the silver fish (you will not drown)
Ride the gray wolf (hold tightly to his fur).

There is a thorn at the heart of the tower;
    that is why it will not stand.

When you reach the little house, the
    place your journey started,
you will recognize it, although it will seem
    much smaller than you remember.
Walk up the path, and through the garden
    gate you never saw before but once.
And then go home.  Or make a home.

Or rest.


The Fairy Reel

If I were young as I once was, and dreams
    and death more distant then,
I wouldn't split my soul in two, and keep
    half in the world of men,
So half of me would stay at home, and
    strive for Faerie in vain,
While all the while my soul would stroll up
    narrow path, down crooked lane,
And there wouod meet a fairy lass and
    smile and bow with kisses three,
She'd pluck wild eagles from the air and
    nail me to a lightning tree
And if my heart would run from her or
    flee from her, be gone from her,
She'd wrap it in a nest of stars and then
    she'd take it on with her
Until one day she'd tire with it, all bored
    with it and done with it
She'd leave it by a burning brook, and off
    brown boys would run with it.
They'd take it and have fun with it and
    stretch it long and cruel and thin,
They'd slice it into four and then they'd
    string with it a violin.
And every day and every night they'd
    play upon my heart a song
So plaintive and so wild and strange that
    all who heard it danced along
And sang and whirled and sank and trod and
    skipped and slipped and reeled and rolled
Until, with eyes as bright as coals, they'd
    crumble into wheels of gold...

But I am young no longer now; for sixty
    years my heart's been gone
To play its dreadful music there, beyond
    the valley of the sun.
I watch with envious eyes and mind, the
    single-souled, who dare not feel
The wind that blows beyond the moon,
    who do not hear the Fairy Reel.
If you don't hear the Fairy Reel, they will
    not stop to steal your breath.
When I was young I was a fool.  So wrap
    me up in dreams and death.

 

Jock 'n Tam gede oot tae sea, in a wee bit sailing boat.

The day was fine, the weather calm, and danger seemed remote.

But hardly had they cleared the bay when things went a’ agee.

In fact a sudden storm arose, and blew them out tae sea.

 

Fiercer and fiercer blew the blast, away went mast and sail,

But Jock undaunted took the oars, and Tam began tae bale.

They struggled at their hopeless task, till they could toil nae mair.

Said Jock in their extremity – “We’ll try a wee bit prayer”.

 

“Oh Lord,” he said with clasped hands “If Thou will see us hame,

I  promise that I’ll mend my ways and Tam will dae the same,

We promise tae be kind to all, and faithful at our work

And every Sabbath, sure as fate, you’ll find us in the kirk.

 

From gambling and from other sins we promise to abstain –

And DRINK in any shape or form, we’ll never touch again!”

“Hold on, hold on,” the other cried, above the storm's loud roar,

“Take back that last yin, Tammy lad ----- I think I see the shore!”

 

Recited for years by Pat Wright, who learned it from his father ---

 the actual origin of the poem is unknown