By golly! It is St. Patrick’s Day. Have you ever wondered how this day came to be?

And how might it be celebrated today? Do things change over time? Well, let’s venture into a tavern on the green and see, in . . .

There is a story yet untold.

Today, on St. Paddy’s Day, let it unfold.

It began on a day a long time ago,

In a place called Ireland, the history books show.

It is about the truth of the leprechaun.

Is he a myth of olden times, nothing more than a silly yarn?

As the story evolved in Irish folklore and is today one we enjoy,

A smallish male creature appeared, wicked acts he did employ.

Now, on St. Patrick’s Day, in a tavern tucked away on an Irish green,

It is said, “Townspeople drink and party, some even become mean.”

So drunk are they at the end of the day,

Little people they begin to see, that’s what some say.

These little men dance and show their guile.

Some tavern dwellers exhibit a frown, others a smile.

Pranks these small beings play on the drunken mass,

Wrinkling their brows and winking, giving them sass.

They speak of pots of gold and of rainbows bold.

They concoct stories, imaginatively told.

They dress in funny little suits, with shamrocks on their hats.

With mischievous expressions on their faces, they look like Cheshire cats.

As day entered eve, the drunker the tavern folks became.

They even tried to give the little people a name.

One plastered man gave out a loud cry,

“They must be the leprechauns of old, those weird little guys.”

“Lepre what?” yelled another wasted chap at the end of the bar.

“They look more like those fellas in the circus who come out of a small car.”

Laughter erupted in the tavern in this quaint Irish town,

For these apparitions were not really leprechauns, but actually lepreclowns. 

Copyright © 2016 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.