THE LEPRECHAUN’S BALL

“Fiddle-de-de,
Can you not see
Your in my way big boy?”

 “You’re a very small lad
To be talking so mad
Or is it your choice to annoy?”

“I’m not a lad!
Is your eyesight bad?
I’m a leprechaun, can’t you see?
Now step aside
Or we’ll collide
And you don’t want no part of me.”

“Now wait a mo,
I’ll let you go
But first tell me what’s your hurry?
It seems such a shame
I don’t know your name.
Is it Charles, Alex or Murry?”

“Me name is Shawn
And I can’t stay long,
I’m on a chore for the Elf King.
I’m to find a performer
And relate to the charmer,
He’ll provide entertainment and sing.”

“Sing?” Said the man.
“I don’t understand.
Is there any occasion at all?”
“It’s just the most grand
To-do in the land.
It’s the Leprechauns Grand Irish Ball.”

“I never heard
Of any such word
Of a party for wee folk.
Help me my man”,
Came his demand,
“Could such a thing be a joke?”

“Could I go and see
This grand party?
Do you sell invitations?”
“Those aren’t for sale
Or sent thorough the mail
To anyone but relations

But there might be
A way you can see
Our grand ball for free.
It will cost a song
Which won’t take long
And a little jig with me.”

“Well, I can sing a bit
And quote some wit
But dancing is not my vocation
Still, I’ll do my best
At your behest
To please your wee folk nation

Oh, by the way
What's the pay
For this entertainment you crave?”
“It’s free food and drink
And also, I think,
A place to stay in our cave.”

“No pot of gold
As I’ve been told
You leprechauns must keep?
A ball so grand
In this great land
Shouldn’t come quite so cheep.”

“Cheep my man?
Now understand,
You’ll share our treasure trove
If your songs be good
As your dancing should
Down at Old Dragons Cove.”

And so it was, together they walked
      on their way to the leprechaun’s ball.
This small man and he
Bound for the sea
Saying nothing important at all.

They walked on and on
As he practiced a song
And the leprechaun grinned his approval.
They skipped a bit lively
Between sprawling ivy
And neither one felt like a fool.

Farther down the cost
Then traveled by most
They made their lively advance,
Singing a tune
To an Irish moon
And he, adjusting his pants.

A light on the sea
Drew attention to see
And he chanced then to. exclaim,
“Is that fire on the sand
The ball most grand
And my best chance at fame?”

“It really is that!”
Said the elf in the hat,
“The party’s just waiting for you,
Our guest of honor
Mr. O’Conner.”
“Mmm, I can smell that Mulligan stew.”

And so the wee man
Ran on to the sand
To prepare for O’Conners arrival.
The gay little folk,
Near had a stroke,
At their underway, yearly revival.

True merriment came

As the falling rain,
They all were excited what's more,
They were in their togs
And howling like dogs
Along the whole cost shore.

Light trepidation
And a chilling sensation
Came on O’conner just then.
He thought to himself,
“Even an elf
Is dangerous, twenty times ten.

He ambled down
And heard the sound
Of laughing and joking and such
Then opened his arms
To the magic charms
That stories told of so much.

He took center stage
And was quite the rage
Then thrilled by the audience call
Again set to dance
And jumped and pranced
To the thrill of the king of them all.

He drank of their wine,
Ate roasted swine
And sang and danced some more.
Such carry-ings-on
Until the dawn
And he’d finished his noble chore.

And then at last so worn and weak
That poor O’Conner could hardly speak,
With all the elves so fast asleep,
He found the Elf King he did seek.

“Your Lordship, If I might enquire
Before this cozy morning fire,
About my pay, my share of gold
By which, your servant, I was told

I would for services supplied
Be rewarded, by and by,
And so I say I’ve done my share
And I might add, with talent rare.

The Elf King seemed unconcerned,
He thought a bit and then returned.
“Of course my man, undoubtedly,
You and I do both agree

But first please, nap a bit,
Then we’ll make the best of it.
We shall share and share alike,
It’s nothing less than truly right.”

And with that he fell to slumber
Calculating the untold number
That his share of gold would be,
All just for a song from he.

The Elf King widely smiled at this
And bid a ferry then to kiss
The smoth cheek of the trubedour
Who had sung upon this shore.

Within the cave, by the fire
Where O’Conner did retire,
There came a paul of time and stance
That held him in a sleeping trance.

Deeper still he fell in sleep
Where little people hide and creep,
Where magic spells still abide,
Where strange and wondrous things reside.

The stout Elf King then reclined,
Settled in his peace of mind.
“Yes my lad, You’ll truly share
But by then you may not care.”

“Wake up lad, It’s time to go
To the mountains of the snow.
Wake up lad, we’re leaving soon,
Pack your things, it’s nearly noon.”

O’Conner stretched and yawned a bit
And chuckled at that bit of wit.
We’re not going anywhere
But I am leaving with my share!

Your share? Oh yes, in the cart,
Hurry now, we’ll soon depart.
I want my gold to have in hand,
Is that too hard to understand?”

But as he pointed with his hand
And used the words “To understand.”
He noticed there was something wrong,
His fingers once so thin and long

Were now quite short and stubby

And his arms seemed rather chubby

His shoes now seemed awfully big,

His hair felt like a stringy wig.

“Where’s a mirror!” he exclaimed.

“I’ve been robbed, I’ve been defamed!

I’ve been shrunk and wrinkled too!

God in heaven, what shall I do?

Now, now, calm down my man.

I know your shocked but understand,

This is the price to share our gold

And never more to now grow old.

It’s true that you’ve changed a bit

But it’s no excuse to have a fit.

You’ll live with us of your kind

And I think you’ll really find

That being one of us, my man,

Can be special, can be grand

For as you know our magic brings

So many unexpected things.”

~Robert E Browne~