The morning after St Patricks Day the bould Willie awoke,
“Jesus Mary and Joseph” where the first words he spoke,
All thoughts of St Patrick as part of a prayer for the season forgotton,
His head it was thumping and he could smell something stinking rotton!
He remembered being on the tear on the town the night before,
He remembered buying poitin after closing time but little more,
So he lay back on the roadside as the world was starting to spin…
Poor old Willie Rimes… what will we at all do with him?
As he lay back he remembered, or was it a dream?
That it was real if surreal on memory it did seem…
That the night before while walking home he met a leprechaun
But they dont exist! he chided himself for being a drunken amadan.
But the memory got cleared, of the leprechaun and his gold
Who let him have his fill if Willie would let go his hold
That he had by the jacket, his fingers round his neck
The little fellow pleading for his life, the pitiful wreck!
In time the memories came clearer: reality was like romance
Having no bad of which to brag, he stuffed the coins down his pants
To see if this was true he put his hand behind and rammed it down
But there was no metal, if there was it was molten, smelly and brown!
Theres a saying that a leprechains gold is gold until you awake
But it turns to shit bit by bit, thats why your fill of it they allow you to take
Now, I dont know, but long ago such by folk was believed I know is true
But with Willie I think his leprechaun gold came from drinking too much home brew!
amadan – fool (Ir)
leprechaun – an Irish fairy
bould / boult bold (Hib. En.)
Irish potato vodka or moonshine