Micheleen Emmett O’Shea

By Deirdre McCarthy, Jim McCarthy

I met a wee leprechaun one summer’s day.

He called himself Micheleen Emmett O’Shea.

With his jacket of crimson and buttons of gold,

He was a fine vision for me to behold.

On shoes he was working as I wandered by

And dropping his hammer, he gave a great cry.

 

“Be Japers!” says he, “You gave me a scare.

Tell me how long have you been standing there?”

“Not long,” said I, hardly believing my eyes.

“You’re a leprechaun, sure, what a lovely surprise!

 

I’ve been out for a walk by this old castle ruin.

Now do you mind telling me, what’s that you’re doing?”

“Begorrah!” said he, “I’ll tell you all right.

These shoes I’ve been working on for a fortnight.

And if they’re not finished by Saturday morn,

I’ll have to put up with Her Majesty’s scorn.

For it’s the Queen of the Faeries, to whom they belong.

So be on your way little girl, get along!”

 

Said I, “That I’ll do, once you give me your gold.

For now that I’ve seen you, you must, so I’m told.

Now where are you hiding your treasure, do tell?

Is it up in a tree?  Is it down in a well?”

 

“All right then!” said he “Tis way cross the bog,

Right next to the stream where there lives an old frog.

And if you dig deep, you’ll find it all right,

But you’d better start now, girl, for soon t’will be night.”

 

“Ah you’ll never regret meeting me here today

Or me name isn’t Micheleen Emmett O’Shea.”

 

Then I lifted him up, he was light as a feather,

And journeyed, we two, down the long road together.

And when we arrived at the place where ‘twas hid,

I knelt on the ground and here’s what I did:

I stared to dig with a stick that I found,

While Mr. O’Shea, sat himself on the ground.

But then his first trick he decided to pull.

“Look out!” shouted he, “’Tis a wild charging bull!”

 

But his prank didn’t work for my eyes wouldn’t stray.

“No, you’ll not get the better of me here today.”

For I had recalled what my dad had once said,

One night as he nestled me into my bed.

“If a leprechaun you should encounter by chance,

Don’t look away from him: hold firm your glance.

And if you should manage to not wince or cower

‘Tis then that you’ll have him firm in your power.”

 

Then Micheleen said, “Look, your house is on fire!”

Said I, “You’ll not trick me you crafty old liar.”

 

With my stomach now empty, my arms growing tired,

I struggled to search for the gold I desired.

Then something jumped straight up from out of the bog!

I turned and looked up and saw ‘twas a frog.

 

And when I looked back, Micheleen, he was gone.

But the sound of his wee little laugh lingered on.

Then I heard him cry out, “That ‘twas no frog at all,

But my friend, Padraigin, who came to my call.

 

Yet you’ll still ne’er regret meeting me here today

Or me name isn’t Micheleen Emmett O’Shea.”

 

Then away down the road the pair of them went

And with tears in my eyes, near a half-hour I spent.

As I wiped my eyes dry feeling sad as could be,

I saw a girl standing there smiling at me.

“Hello there,” said she.  “I’m a new girl in town.

And I can’t help but notice you look very down.

My name is Sinead Finnuala O’Brien.

If you don’t mind me asking ya, why are you cryin’?”

 

“Oh you’ll never believe what just happened back there.

A leprechaun tricked me and ran off, I swear.”

Then softly said she, “Come to my house for tea.

A nice chat will make you feel better, you’ll see.”

Said I, “Your so kind.  My name is Katie Malone,

And I’d give anything for some tea and a scone.”

 

And from that day forward, a great friendship grew.

And now looking back I can tell you ‘tis true:

That whether you’re young, or whether you’re old.

A good friend is always much better than gold.

And I often recall what that leprechaun said

As I drift off to sleep in my warm feather bed.

 

“You’ll never regret meeting me here today

Or my name isn’t Micheleen Emmett O’Shea.”

- Total nr. of readings: 13,436 Copyright © The author [2020] All Rights Reserved. This story may not be reproduced without the express written permission of the author except for personal use.