Chasing the Clever Leprechaun

In the green of old Ireland, where the soft rain never strays, And the shamrock

keeps its counsel through the long and winding days, There’s a leprechaun they’re after,

sworn they’ve nearly got him caught, But he’s always half a step ahead,

and sharper than the thought. By the bend along the river, sure they had

him then or so, With the water running clear and cold and the

daylight hanging low. He laughed and tipped his little hat, said,

“Now lads, have sense at last,” Then asked them but a simple

thing about the present and the past. They stood there weighing answers,