The Leprechaun's Moon

The Leprechaun's Moon 

      © D.M.Schreiber Feb. 2014 all rights reserved. 

Ever see a leprechaun's luck underneath the moon? Well tidy be sure that on the eve of St. Pat's eve, is where I did find this shenanigan's fate, lurkin' in the ships of town, the outskirts of the wee patch shams was he, jiggin' all around and lo and behold to my astonishing maze, I seen 'im trade up his twiddles (gold) as he leaned o'er shacks made of green heart patches and all for the luck of clove'. Top off his hat, sat I, I did a watchin' from bushel's rut, his hover, his dance was a whishtful cantor settin' his groupers a hummin' till I loaned my ear more snug and fit, I 'eard his shanties a come. Ah such a whistlin' pot was he, he was whilst the twilight flickered gold, he thunk them best as cabbage tunes, best plantin' notes worth sowed. Perhaps he was a mission bound where earth grew surer met. Whatever the goal accomplished here, we both were loner's yet, underneath the leprechaun's moon, I sat with me bones caught a shiverin' among the midnight boons and limbs outstretched and tin cans gone a trippin'. His view did glance o'er twice my way, the very astonishing thing I'd say was he yanked his knicks in the clover hay, the dalliant earth's foray? Or was that a potters tub or jellied gut, a fisherman's Irish stew, no be naught his delivery front was a boast for an outhouse loo! Backed up-fat or flab be fit or roasted goblin's mutton nor bloated like a rivers rat, a scratcher's twist (bed) gone huntin', All in all I'd say his gate was vigor, and stylish too went he bent straight up and adjusted his rump proceeding through and through. Admiringly sat I as I had sat and thunk this twain could hipper through the clover and ditty the fields and piddle his change merrily like no other. And who was I to mar this mate for he was just a toddle, a Captain's Luck's for legions lore, an Irish gentleman's follow.

Written by D.M. Schreiber 2-24-14