The Day I Caught a Leprechaun

This is the story of how,  

a long time past from now,

I caught myself a Leprechaun

which I happened to chance on.

The Leprechaun was named Pete,

and he was fast on his feet,

fleet and light and sly,

it took all my effort to be just as spry.

I was in a dank pub, eight drinks in,

when Pete entered, hoisted a pint to his chin,

He challenged us all to his hidden prize,

“My gold is yours if you catch me, ya drunken guys!”

I stood from my barstool,

having always been a fool,

“I’ll get you, ya wee bastard,” said I.

Clearing the dullness from my eye.

Pete said, “Oh, ya tink so, ya drunken sot.”

I replied, “I do, indeed, you don’t know what I got.”

“Then have at me, you blathering, stumble bum.”

“That’s mean, Mr. Leprechaun. I won’t succumb.”

Pete drank another giant pint and looked me in the face.

He said, “I’ll wipe the floor with ye, all over this place.”

I said, “Now there’s no need for that sort of talk.”

Pete rolled up his green sleeves, to end my squawk.

I said, “It’s just my poor mother, bless her heart,

didn’t go for me fighting or to arguing start.”

Pete replied, “Your mother, oh my, I’ve no wish to offend.”

I replied, “It’s alright my friend, how could you comprehend.”

I said, “It’s just that on this day is when she died.”

Pete dropped his arms to his side.

A serene look came upon Pete’s eyes,

It was then that I had him, who can resist an Irishman’s lies.

I made a toast and raised my glass,

“To a fine Irish woman, a fine Irish Lass.”

Pete closed his eyes and raised the pint to his lips.

I had him then, no more lucky slips.

Pete with his eyes closed, drinking deep.

I lunged at him with a mighty leap.

Before he knew it I was upon him, holding tight,

“Ah, ya idjit,” said Pete, “you made me spill my pint.”

It was then that I knew I had done two wrongs,

I didn’t listen to all the poems and warning songs,

Lied about my mother, and spilled a man’s drink.

I’d broken the rules and it made me think.

I let the Leprechaun out of my hand,

I said, “I’m sorry. I’m ashamed. Please understand.”

Pete replied, “It’s alright lad. At least you tried.”

But I felt bad because I lied.

I said, “Because of the spill let me get you a beer.”

Pete said, “Sure and we’ll get back to being men of cheer.”

The others joined in, we toasted and sang.

Up on the bar, Pete sprang.

He jigged and danced and did his thing,

into the wee morning hours, two AM did ring.

Pete said, “It’s late boy-ohs, and I’ve got to flee,

the wife expects me home at a quarter to three.”

The night had worn on in joy and comradery,

Pete tipped his hat and said, “To tink how bad ya wanted me!”

We shook hands and he grabbed his shillelagh,

out the door he went and so ends story of Leprechaun Pete and me.