BEASTLY TALES

THE FORLORN LEPRECHAUN

There was a young man from Kilarny,
Who was fond of speaking the blarney.
He would cajole and persuade by flattery,
Never tiring, as though run by battery.
Seamus O’Rourke, for that was his name,
Would smooth things over, sidestepping the blame.
“’Tis best to be on top o’things,” he loved to say,
“Top O’ the morning. Top O’ the day!”
He favoured, “on top O’” with Katy McGee,
A fair colleen from County Kilgee.

But Katy McGee would not give him time of the day.
Despising him thoroughly, his condescending way.
Said O’Rourke, “I’m sure I don’t know what the problem can be?”
“I know I’m a bit wild now, so fancy free.”
“If one decides I’m not for her, a real Kiljoy!”
“She can go and find another Irish boy.”
“I’ll be off to Kilarney, to be sure.”
“Kilmegan, Kilpatrick, Kilmorgan, Kilgure.”
“At Kilcoburn, I’ll kill some time,”
“Strutting my stuff, playing pantomime!”
“Perfectly sober, as one comes and goes.”
“If you don’t want to be a clown, don’t wear a red nose.”

O’Rourke was walking towards Tipperary,
Not too far from Kilkenny, he saw a wee fairy,
Or, at least, he thought he had, quite scary!
But it transpired to be a leprechaun,
Sitting by a bridge, looking forlorn.
“Top O’ the day to you, little old man!”
Seamus O’Rourke was a leprechaun fan.
“I’m off to a public house, I am thinking,”
“It’s certainly the hour to be drinking.”
They don’t let me drink, they say I’m pint-sized.
So said the leprechaun, looking surprised.
“What a shock, for you to be having there.”
“If you went to a Pub, would people start to stare?”
As I haul myself up, onto the bar stool,
They look at me as though I’m a bit of a fool.
But it is THEY who are foolish indeed,
To deny a leprechaun who has such a need!
A thirst to slake, just like theirs, don’t you know,
Guinness is the drink, that could help me to grow.
There are not so many of us left today.
And those who are left, don’t get any pay.
But what about you, me lad?
Why do you look so sad?

“’Tis the fact that my girl has turned her back,”
“’pon me, that now I am a sad sack.”
“I thought, perhaps, as I’m Tipperary bound.”
“That a new lass, very pretty, can be found.”
And so, they each one, bid Adieu,
Their own agendas to pursue.