Leprechauns

A little poem about listening to all those tales your mam tells you.

There are wee little men about
They dance in the moonlight
And play tricks on travelers

They wear top hats of felt
And waistcoats so dashing
With leather shoes that never wear thin

They dance in a circle
Laughing with glee
They are children of Ireland

Like the gingerbread man
You can’t catch them
Though many have tried

If caught they promise a pot of gold
You better hold fast ‘fore they deceive you
Believe your mam

This is no tale of blarney

One cold night
When you find them too
Do not be swayed by their promises of wealth

Just ask for a dance to last the night through.