THE LAST OF THE LEPRECHAUNS.

NATURE

June 16th 2012.

 

Author Valerie Styles.

My best friend living in Ireland.

 

THE LAST OF THE LEPRECHAUNS.

 

On a bright sunny day in the magic month of May 

the perfume of the Hawthorn filled my senses

leaving the road to follow the call, of a sparkling

water way.

 I sat  down on the river bank took off my shoes

and watched the River dance.

From the corner of my eye appeared a very tiny man

with boots of brown ,all scuffed and worn, he proudly wore his jacket green, his curly beard was silvery bright, as soft and fair as ever seen.

 

Pink rosy cheeks and eyes of blue

that once had danced with great  delight

What ails you friend?  I asked with care,

you are such a very welcome, rare sight. 

 

You are now are alone, and in great despair

May I sit with you for awhile?

he lifted his Capeen, and in a proud salute

Are you, like me, a traveller Sir?

 

Oh master we were, you the master now,

you see me here, the last of my clan

I'll sit for awhile and share my thoughts,

with you,  my name is Billy Dan.

 

My sons and daughters have all fled away,

escaping your broken glass, and tin cans

and all the rubbish you throw away

from your family cars and workers vans.

 

They clogged up our streams and by-ways Sir, 

my wife  she died of a broken heart

to see her land poisoned so, gasping for air,

we tried to clean it up, Sir,  but this job was far to large, we just ended up gasping for air too, Sir.

But once we were a very proud race we rode with the Kings De Denan, we sang and we danced and every one laughed, every one loved us then.

We polished the Rainbows colours bright,

and tended the golden fields of our lands,

but then came new invaders, who cut down our trees

to hunt for riches and gold, but gold they could not find, what they did not understand, they spoiled

the land for riches, and said they would guard it now.

 

But the rich ones were very greedy Sir,

they lost the Cruiskeen pot, they  thought that was only theirs, now all they can share, is their poverty.

A  curse upon them I say.

 

 

After I have eaten my cheese and bread,

and drunk my flagon of ale. I shall be up and away good  Sir, and wish you a grand new day. 

 

 

He then took out his fiddle, and danced a riddle,

for I am free, I am free, sang he, sang he,

then out from the riddles the ditches and brier

sprang fairies and leprechauns  gay,

Butterfly's and Bees and the shy dansell fly,

 golden celendine and primroses, guilded their path, and spring blossoms became their highways.

 

They sang once more and danced for sure,

for the joy of the Suns golden rays,

they disappeared over the hill singing,

We are free, we are free, we choose our own way,

free from your greed and gluttony, free from your wars and tyrony.

 

So hold your colours high unfurl them in the sky,

Red, Gold, Green, and Blue, we will polish our rainbows anew, can you do this, can you, can you, Sir?

 

And with a jolt I awoke seemingly from a dream,

I looked around and he was gone, the Blue Bells had died, with the thrushes song, and the stream could dance no more.

 

Now the stream, was a green smelly mess,

Clogged up with a broken pram, and other junk,

including a dirty old mattress.

 

Is that bridgets tears that fall on my head,

Bridgets tears that sting my eyes,

and now I know, why I am feeling so very very sad.

 

Valerie styles.

 

My very best friend.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

This Poem is from my best ever friend Valerie Styles, an Irish lady, her first poem, I liked it so much, I thought you might like to read it also :)) Moonbeam

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I like the very good description. I like the many places she took me in this poem. Sad when death make us sad and weak.
" looked around and he was gone, the Blue Bells had died, with the thrushes song, and the stream could dance no more."
Sad when we lose nature beauty and mystery to pollution and abuse. Thank you for the excellent poem.
Coyote

[Wendy Seames Garner]

A sad tale of woe, we are losing the earth's magic by polluting it! I hope we wake up to the possibilities soon. A nice poem, Valerie, you just need to do a bit of editing.