If you see a leprechaun,
And of his left leg you catch hold,
He’s duty bound to tell you ,
Where he hid
his pot of gold.
But leprechauns are crafty,
And he might bind you with a spell.
Or perhaps tell you a
story,
For they’re full of blarney as well.
Or he’ll blow some star dust at you,
Which is
bound to make you sneeze,
Four or five times in quick succession,
That’ll bring you to your knees.
In
your haste to find your hanky,
You’re bound to lose your grip,
And when you’ve finished sneezin’
You’ll
find he’s given you the slip.
In this life there’s one thing certain,
As sure as you were born,
There’s
no way that you can keep a hold,
Of a slippery leprechaun!
