Dinna' Be Tellin' Me Friends! Poem by David Whalen

I’m goin’ to tell this story to ye, if ye can keep it a hush
Since I canna’ be telling’ me friends
Twas the Saturday past, I drank a wee too much
Before me usual trek home thru’ the glens

I was steppin’ quite proudly, at least so I thought
Til I stumbled oe’r a root and fell flat on me face!
With my face to the airth, in this spot I’d been brought
A nap seemed quite timely, and in this very place!

To tuck my tam neath my head, to serve as me pillow
Struck me as such the smart thing to do
For to be takin’ a wee nap on the airth neath a willow
Made a sod such as meself, feel mellow through and through

Seemed na more than a blink, of a bloodshot eye
sure and couldna been no more than a minute or two
Thru a dim sodden fog came a sound sweet and high
Like the taste of fine whiskey and cool highland dew

Yet when I awoke, the moon struck me square in the eye
Me head twas splittin and me ears they were ringin’
No doubt from the ale and the stout I’d tossed down
Caused me to hear such strange singin’

Now this tis the part where me story gets a bit dicey
For when I turned me leaden head toward where I heard the sound
Me eyes bugged owt, and me blood ran ow icey
For there upon a mushroom sat a leprechaun, fat and round

He had a long stemmed pipe, in his wee chubby hand
And his hat twas of thistle down, pointy end folded over
He wore stripey green socks, this most astounding little man
His shoes and tunic, appeared to me, cleverly embroidered with clover

Well, It goes without sayin’ I couldna believe me own eyes
The little fellow stopped singin’, and on his pipe took a puff
Then Said “and a good morning’to ye” in a voice clear as the sky
“I was thinking’, I should look after ye, til ye looked well enuf’

“Well, tis recovered you seem… tho a bit messy and sickly
annow I’ll be on me own merry way.”
from the mushroom he jumped… down e’er so quickly
I raised e’er so slowly, and begged him to stay.

He said if he could, he most sartinly would
But he had leprechaun doors to unlock
Herds of butterflies to shepherd, as only he could
And rainbows with kettles of gold to stock.

He gave a giant of a shrug with his wee green shoulders
Said he was late for his morning tea with his good friend ol’ mole
Picked up his kettle of gold and vanished tween moss covered boulders
Into a root sheltered, lichen lined, leprechaun sized hole.



As I struggled to me feet and squinted all aboat
At the breaking dawn, and the mist slowly raisin’
I was yet a bit shaky and me mind was still afloat
Of the early morn’s, events so strange and amazing’

Wait! Don’t be givin’ me that “raised eyelid look! “
Tis the truth I be telling’ ye, as true as the glens
And sure the truth I’ll be swearin’ on that black Holy book
If you’ll in turn swear, ye’ willna’ be telling’ me friends.

If me mates hear this accountin’ I’ll be embarrassed no end
“So Great smoking’, Jaysus… dinna be telling’ me friends”!