Leprechauns

Don't Tick 'em Off

I want to wish everyone a happy Feast of Saint Patrick and a Blessed Passion Sunday!

Here is one of my favorite modern depictions of St. Patrick by BARITUS Catholic.

Another famous, or perhaps infamous, resident of Ireland is the Leprechaun.

The Leprechaun is often described as a magical, diminutive, old, bearded man with a hat, who hoards treasure. The book, A Treasury of Irish Fairy & Folk Tales, states that the Leprechaun is also called the One-shoemaker, because he is generally seen working at a single shoe. They are withered, old, and solitary unlike the more sociable fairies.

Typically, travelers hears the clinking of the Leprechaun’s tools before they see them. Once spotted, the traveler needs to keep their eyes on them in case they try to disappear. If they lay hold of the tricky fairy, they then threaten and intimidate the Leprechaun until the location of the treasure is revealed.

In one story in the same collection, a greedy lad throws the Leprechaun into the fire to get him to reveal his secrets. The boy’s mother beats the Leprechaun because she blamed him for her spilling her milk pail. Elsewhere, the boy’s father overhears voices in a fort on his way home saying that there is treasure at the bottom of a quarry but he must “beware of bringing his wife with him.”

Of course, the father tells his wife about the treasure but warns her to stay home and wait for him to return. The mother is also very greedy and sneaks off to get the treasure so she can have it all to herself. In the darkness, she stumbled over a great stone and landed in the quarry with a broken leg. She spent the rest of her life with a limp and the people said the Leprechaun put a curse on her. The treasure had never been found.

To end this post, I have included a poem written by the Irish poet, William Allingham, titled:

The Lepracaun; or, Fairy Shoemaker

I

Little Cowboy, what have you heard,
Up on the lonely rath's green mound?
Only the plaintive yellow bird
Sighing in sultry fields around,
Chary, chary, chary, chee-ee!—
Only the grasshopper and the bee?—
     'Tip-tap, rip-rap,
     Tick-a-tack-too!
Scarlet leather, sewn together,
This will make a shoe.
Left, right, pull it tight;
Summer days are warm;
Underground in winter,
Laughing at the storm!'
Lay your ear close to the hill.
Do you not catch the tiny clamour,
Busy click of an elfin hammer,
Voice of the Leprachaun singing shrill
As he merrily plies his trade?
     He's a span
     And a quarter in height.
Get him in sight, hold him tight,
     And you're a made
        Man!

II

You watch your cattle the summer day,
Sup on potatoes, sleep in the hay;
How would you like to roll in your carriage,
Look for a duchess's daughter in marriage?
Seize the Shoemaker—then you may!
    'Big boots a-hunting,
    Sandals in the hall,
    White for a wedding-feast,
    Pink for a ball.
    This way, that way,
    So we make a shoe;
    Getting rich every stitch,
    Tick-tack-too!‘
Nine-and-ninety treasure-crocks
This keen miser-fairy hath,
Hid in mountains, woods, and rocks,
Ruin and round-tow'r, cave and rath,
And where the cormorants build;
    From times of old
    Guarded by him;
    Each of them fill'd
    Full to the brim
        With gold!

III

I caught him at work one day, myself,
In the castle-ditch where foxglove grows,—
A wrinkled, wizen'd, and bearded Elf,
Spectacles stuck on his pointed nose,
Silver buckles to his hose,
Leather apron—shoe in his lap—
    'Rip-rap, tip-tap,
    Tick-tack-too!
    (A grasshopper on my cap!
    Away the moth flew!)
    Buskins for a fairy prince,
    Brogues for his son,—
    Pay me well, pay me well,
    When the job is done!'
The rogue was mine, beyond a doubt.
I stared at him; he stared at me;
'Servant, Sir!' 'Humph!' says he,
And pull'd a snuff-box out.
He took a long pinch, look'd better pleased,
The queer little Leprachaun;
Offer'd the box with a whimsical grace,—
Pouf! he flung the dust in my face,
And while I sneezed,
        Was gone!