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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required They were sitting thar leaning back in their chairs near the bar down at old Murphy's pub, when a tiny old man, with shillelagh in hand pushed open the door with his club. Not the front door, the one back by the moor, the door hadn't been used for yars, but he slipped on through with his hat all askew then signaled old Murph for a beer. Now, there was many a town where strangers abound, but not in the town Killyclare, so word spread fast, until at last, half the town's lads were thar. Twas then doncha know, the old man arose and tiltin' the hat on his head, "twas a time for sure, used this club for war, now I use it for lore instead". There be stories told 'bout Leprechaun gold in a pot at the end of the bow, and the wishes you'd get if it's me you could catch for the prize of lettin' me go. But me darlin's I pray on this very fine day not ta be waistin' your time. Ya see, all the gold's in yur heart doncha know, as fer wishes I'll tell ya a rhyme. If ya wish for a Miss just for her kiss and a lassie with which justa play and don't care for her heart cuz ya think yur quite smart then you'll only have fun for a day. If ya wish for gold, the story's been told then you'll miss out on silver and bronze, for the journey's worth more than a pot o' gold ore, it's the struggle that makes yur heart strong. Then through the door blew a wind from the moor, as the leprechaun tapped with his cane. Then he leapt upside down - on his hat spun around and whirled out the door whence he came. But, thar left behind, his shillelagh they'd find, now it's hung on the wall by the bar, so whenever a day that the story's relayed folks come from near and afar. The shillelagh for sure is now used for lore and held as the story is told and all that are thar, then whisper a prayer of thanks for the leprechaun's gold.
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