THE LITTLE LEPRECHAUN

HAPPY ST PATRICKS DAY
There was a leprechaun called Tim
Who was incredibly thin
When asked how it was possible
To be the size of a twig
He said each day he does the jig
 Rather than eating bread
And lying in bed
It keeps him out of hospital
But gets him into trouble
As he’s cheeky and mischievous
But far from devious
He lives in Belfast
Can run so fast
Especially when being chased
And though red faced
He’s always amazed
As he’s old now
Say the lines upon his brow
But no one knows his vintage
Though they do know of his tipple
As at his local
Where you’ll find those so vocal
Tim will be playing the fiddle
Next to a jar of whisky
After a few tunes and drinks
He’s a bit of a mess
As his vision becomes misty
So, come St Patricks day
Tim finds his way
To the bars of Belfast
Where life goes slow
But time travels fast
Though all have a bit of a blast
Fine singing
Ears ringing
Heads spinning
St Patricks day’s here at last
© Fiona Cummings