The Leprechauns Lament Poem by Thomas Vaughan Jones

Me name is Mick McGonagle,
a man so rare and bold.
I live beneath a rainbow
with my pot of fairy gold.
I have seen the Kings of Erin,
from a thousand years ago,
and I watched them fall and perish
in this land so full of woe.
I have danced the dance with fairies,
and I've loved a Fairy Queen
in these trees, and fields, and forests,
dressed in forty shades of green.

Now the land is filled with strangers
preaching shame, deceit, and lies;
and false patriotic glory
with Old Ireland as the prize.
They care not for love or honour
who would rule by club or gun,
And see not the grave dilemma
when a father grieves his son.
Can they hear not the mother,
or the wife or sister's cries
every time a son or brother
or a faithful husband dies.

When the battle cries are over
and the folk are free from fear,
take a peek beneath a clover
and you'll find that I'm still here.
Then the world will ring with magic bells,
and fairy folk will thrive,
in a better world and greener,
when Old Ireland comes alive.
Me name is Mick McGonagle,
and one day I'll be free
to play again my magic flute,
and dance in Innisfree