"An Irish Tale" by Steve Doyle

An Irish Tale

As I returned from the tavern the other night

I beheld in the forest a beautiful sight.

Sitting upon a fallen log he was;

I could hardly believe me luck!

Of all good things to stumble upon

There in the wood, a wee Leprechaun!

Quiet as a mouse I crept up close.

Still he sat, rubbing his toes.

His long white beard flowed to the ground.

Up I crept with nary a sound.

Intent I was to grab and hold fast

This lucky Leprechaun so finally at last

I would have me three wishes and be myself told

The secret hiding place of his pot o' gold.

A rich man, indeed; Rich I would be

So long as he didn't get away from me.

Up I jumped when I got within reach.

The wee green man let out a screech.

By the coattails I had him; I tell you I did!

But somehow by magic he slipped me grip!

Off he ran, quick as a whip;

The little feller gave me the slip.

So now here I be poor as ever I've been

And do never expect such a chance again.

But now when I travel after the sun is gone

I be hearing the laughter of a Leprechaun.