Still Feelin’ the Green

Still in a St. Patrick’s Day state-of-mind (and no, I’m not stewed nor am I sloshed)…


Just a moment, I say.
Tis all I needed to spy
the little ruffian. His hair
as red as flame and his eyes

even redder. There he was, skippin’
through me vegetable garden
with carrot stems hangin’
from his pockets and a potato

in his arms, gigglin’ and snickerin’
sure as I did when I swiped
cookies coolin’ on mam’s
bakin’ racks when I was but

a wee one. Now, this green
wee one was filchin’
my veggies so I calls out
the window I see you, you

thievin’ Irish weasel. If you’re
gonna pinch me garden
at least share a pint with me.
That stopped him. So, I poured

him a cold stout with a head
as thick as cream pie.
Before time could twirl its tail,
he gulped a pint or three more

and started trippin’ and twiirlin’
and spillin’ words he never meant
to spill. Now, the short of it is this.
I let the devil keep my garden,

my ale, and my home ’cause
while he was sleepin’
a drunkard’s sleep,
I swiped the arse’s pot of gold.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Ha Ha Ha.”


3 thoughts on “Still Feelin’ the Green

  1. Pingback: Right Up My Alley (Sort Of) | This Blog Needs Daily Prompts

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