I’m sure in the past you’ve been told
If you find me, I’ll give you the gold
That I’ve hidden away.
I’m a trickster, they say.
Yes, the story’s incredibly old.
And you’ll swear that you think that you’ve seen
Me, a little old man dressed in green
In a forest or field
And you’re sure that I’d yield
My treasure. You seem pretty keen
Not to meet me, but claim what I own
And I’m pretty damn sure: once I’d shown
You the cash, you’d vamoose
Cut the leprechaun loose
I won’t lie, I feel pretty alone.
It’s not all that it’s cracked up to be,
Having treasure, and that you’d soon see:
If I gave it to you
You’d be rich, that is true.
And then people would treat you like me.
Tom Juniper Poetry 