And then he plucked up courage, at least enough to speak,
Said he: "I'm still prepared to pay the hundred pounds a week.

I'll pay it every Friday night, I'll pay it on the nail,
Then maybe in a month or two you'll let me have my tail."
The little man then raised himself up to his three feet four,
And thumbed his chin and pondered and then he paced the floor.

He carried on traversing, lapel in either hand,
For nearly sixty seconds and then produced his wand.
He held aloft the magic cane then unto Clancy said:
"This spell will cease to function whenever you are dead."

The divvle raised a protest in which he voiced his fears:
"A healthy chap like that could live another forty years."
"Unless of course," said Clancy, "a rascal such as you
Could interfere with providence - the sort of thing you'd do."
  The little elf man beamed with glee, said he: "I must confess,
You both have got a valid point but you will have to guess.
If Clancy lived for forty years you'd languish incomplete
But then at least you could be sure your tail and you would meet.

But if by chance or circumstance you hastened his demise,
The spell could be invalid - but then that's just surmise!"
Both Clancy and the divvle could understand his glee,
The object of the exercise was plain for each to see.

They both were being punished by that wily Leprechaun -
And then as if by magic the little man had gone.
Clancy hurried to the door, across the cottage room,
With the divvle close behind him and peered into the gloom.

"He's gone all right." observed "The Tank", "He won't be coming back."
The divvle cleared his throat to speak and Clancy hit the deck.
Continue Return