Irish Will-O’-The-Wisp

She dances in her shadows
In the brightness of the moon
Weaving, intertwining
her long golden locks 
To a melodious, hornpipe tune

Casting a spell, bewitching passerby
Her chosen Irish lament,
An ancient ballad from Balally

Clad in emerald green
Such a ‘Will-o’-the-wisp
Her hankerchief, tailed dress
Chiffon, broderie anglaise, so crisp

Bare-footed, like a red doe deer
She twirls a tantilising trance
Her pirouettes spinning circles
With her ‘Michael Flatley’ dance

Captivating her audience
Strutting to her sonnet
In her beaded, fitted jacket
With her straw, tied bonnet

Flowing like wild water
Blowing air from her tempo
She tosses her straw boater
A stunning sight from top to toe

Young, Irish green eyes 
dancing to an old ‘Eire’ Jig
By the bonny banks of Shannon
The beautiful, saltwater brig