An Irish Tale

by Terence O'Grady

  Shamus cleared his throat quietly. “Well, you see, lassie, there are a number of things that we leprechauns are very good at. But writin’ poems in not one of them.”

  “But I thought leprechauns were always supposed to be walking through the woods and singing merry songs,” protested Katherine.

  “Quite right, missy. Quite right. Some of the wee folk are known to be fine singers. But you see, we don’t really write the songs we sing.”

  “You don’t actually write them yourselves?” asked Sean.

  “No,” said Shamus with a sigh. “It’s a sad thing to be sure, but we leprechauns generally steal our songs from others.”

  “Others?” asked Katherine. “What others?”

  “Oh, the fairies,” said Shamus casually. “Occasionally we’ll nip a song from the Wood Sprites. Now and again we’ll pick up a song from some dwarf that happens to be in the neighborhood.”

  “I can’t believe it,” said Katherine. “Leprechauns actually steal the songs of other people?”

  “Now, now, ‘tis not as bad as it sounds,” Shamus quickly replied. “Most leprechauns have fine voices and it’s a privilege for most folks to have their songs sung by one of the little people.”

  Sean shook his head slowly. “So you want me to write a song for you?”

  “No, no!” Shamus replied quickly. “Not a song. Just a poem. You see, I just don’t happen to be one of those leprechauns gifted with a fine singing voice. But I’ve a good voice for recitation. A poem is more my style.”

  “So you need a poem,” said Sean. “Any particular kind of poem?”

  “A very particular kind of poem indeed,” replied Shamus. “I need a love poem.”

  “A love poem?” asked Katherine. “Why in the world would you need a love poem?”

  Shamus frowned. “Not that it’s any of your business, lassie, but there’d be a certain young lady that I’m tryin’ to impress.”

  “A young lady?” asked Katherine. “Do you mean a young leprechaun lady?”

  “Well of course I mean a young leprechaun lady!” Shamus said angrily. “Who else would I want to impress?”

  “So this young lady is your sweetheart, Shamus?” asked Katherine.

  “Well, after a manner of speaking, yes. She is acquainted with me.”

  “And exactly what does ‘acquainted’ mean?” asked Sean.

  Shamus paused. “Well, I’m pretty sure she knows my name. It was just the other day that my darling said something like, ‘Oh, it’s you, Shamus’ as I happened to cross her path when we were both out walking.”

  Katherine rolled her eyes. “In other words, Shamus, she barely knows you exist.”

  “Something like that,” admitted Shamus, his eyes cast down on the ground. “But that’s the whole point of the poem that I’ll be wanting Sean to write for me. After she reads my heartfelt declaration of love for her, she’s bound to fall in love with me.”

  “But how can it be a heartfelt declaration of love for…what is the leprechaun girl’s name?” asked Katherine.

  “Her name is Regan,” said Shamus with a sigh. “A lovely name to go with a lovely lass.”

  “I see,” said Katherine, “but how can it be a heartfelt declaration of love for Regan if you don’t write it yourself?”

  “Details, details,” growled Shamus. “The fact is that I’m in need of a love poem and this heartsick young man is just the one to write it for me. It shouldn’t be difficult. Regan is the sweetest, most lovely, most adorable of lasses. All you must do, Sean, is to write a poem that speaks of her sweetness, her charming sense of humor, her lovely green eyes, her lilting voice, her…”

  “Hold on, Shamus,” interrupted Sean. “Am I supposed to be taking notes here? It sounds like you’ve got plenty to write about. Why don’t you just write the poem yourself and be done with it?”

  Shamus stamped his feet angrily. “I told you, Sean, we leprechauns are poor poets. When it comes to putting words together in the right combinations, we get rattled and then we get muddled. But that’s where you come in. You write the poem for my darling Regan, I’ll give it to her, pretending it’s mine, and everything will be fine. Regan will fall in love with me and I’ll give you enough gold to pay off your debt to that cranky old Mrs. O’Hara.”

  “I don’t know about this,” said Sean, shaking his head slowly. “I suppose I could try it. When exactly would I get the gold so I can pay off Mrs. O’Hara?”

  “Well now, you wouldn’t be expecting me to pay you off before the job’s done, would you?” asked Shamus, a slight twinkle in his eye.

  “But if I don’t pay Mrs. O’Hara some money very soon, I’ll be in jail and I won’t be able to do anything.”

  “I see your point,” said Shamus. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll give you a wee bit of gold to pay off a wee bit of your debt. You can just tell Mrs. O’Hara that the rest of the debt will be paid in just a few days. That way she’ll let you remain free and you can write the poem for me.”

  “I’m still not sure,” Sean said slowly. “Somehow it doesn’t seem right, Shamus. You should be writing your own love poem.”

  “Listen, laddie,” said Shamus. “I would if I could, but I can’t. So don’t you worry about it. You just write me a lovely poem for Regan, I’ll give you all the gold you need to pay off your debt to Mrs. O’Malley and the story will end happily for everyone.”

  “But what if I fail?” asked Sean. “What if I can’t come up with a good love poem?”

  “Well, I’ll be giving you a little boost to your creativity. If you don’t write a good poem for me, I’ll be making things a little awkward for you.”

  “Awkward? What do you mean?” asked Sean, his face looking more doubtful than ever.

  “It’s my understandin’ that it’s a bit awkward when you mortals are walking around sporting a nice little tail.”

  “A tail?” cried Katherine. “You wouldn’t! You couldn’t! What a terrible thing to do!”

  “Well, I would and I could, little lassie, if your brother doesn’t write me a proper poem to give to my sweet Regan. It’s just a wee little bit of a magical spell that I happen to be very good at.”

  “Well,” said Sean with a shrug. “I’m not happy about any of this but I guess I don’t really have any choice. I can’t have Mrs. O’Hara putting me in jail for the next two years. It’s a bargain then.”

  Chapter 7: Writer’s Block

  “It’s no use,” said Sean, his heading drooping over his pencil. “I’ve been working for hours and I haven’t come up with a single idea.”

  “But Sean, you’re such a good writer. What’s the matter?” asked Katherine.

  “It’s not that simple, Katie,” said Sean, pushing his chair back from the small table on which he was working. “I never have any problem writing a poem for Megan because she’s my sweetheart. I know her better than I know myself. But I don’t know Regan. How can I write a love poem for a girl I don’t know?”

  “Yes, I can see how that would be a problem,” said Katherine. “Let’s see now. What did Shamus say about her?”

  “Well, Shamus said that she was sweet, had a sense of humor, lovely green eyes…”

  “That’s it, Sean!” interrupted Katherine. “That’s it! That’s what you should write about!”

  “But Katie, a love poem can’t just be a catalogue, a list of somebody’s qualities, even if they’re wonderful qualities,” Sean said, shaking his heading. It’s got to come from the heart.”

  “Maybe so, Sean,” said Katherine, “but you’ve got to come up with something and pretty soon. It’s been a week now and I think Shamus is going to start getting impatient.”

  “Not to mention Mrs. O’Hara,” said Sean. “That little bit of money I gave her won’t keep her happy for long. She’s going to want me to pay off the whole debt pretty soon.”

  “And don’t forget that Shamus said that if you don’t write a poem for him to give to Regan, he was going to magically grow a tail
on you.”

  “Oh, I can’t believe that, Katie. I think he was just bluffing. I can’t believe Shamus would really do that.”

  Katherine sighed. “I’m not so sure, Sean. I’m not so sure.”

  Chapter 8: Shamus’ Warning

  Shamus looked worried. He had sent a note to Sean and Katherine telling them to meet him at noon in Leprechaun’s glen, but they were both late. Was Sean really making progress on the love poem he was writing for Shamus? It had been more than a week now since Shamus had heard from either Sean or Katherine. What was taking so long? Wasn’t Sean the poetic one? Hadn’t he written poems for his own sweetheart? Why was it taking him so long to write this poem?

  Shamus jumped up from the stump he was sitting on and started walking quickly around the glen. What a lovely place, he thought. Too bad the mortals seldom came into the deep woods. There was no place in the world as beautiful as this forest. Why couldn’t the mortals see that? It was a terrible thing to have no sense of beauty.

  Seconds later, Shamus’ thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of Sean and Katherine crashing their way through the underbrush.

  “Ah, Shamus,” said Sean happily. “We never thought we’d find you.”

  Shamus frowned. “I’ve been sittin’ here all by myself for quite a while a-waitin’ for you two.”

  “But Shamus,” protested Katherine, “you said yourself that Leprechaun’s Glen keeps changing location. It’s really hard to find this place.”

  “Oh, tish-tosh,” said Shamus. “There’s nothing to it. You just have to follow your instincts.”

  “Well, we’re here now, anyway,” said Sean. “And I think I’ve solved your problem.”

  “Oh, have you now?” Shamus said warily. “I guess I’ll be the judge of that.”

  “I’ve written a poem for you to given to Regan. It’s not perfect but…”

  “Enough chit-chat,” demanded Shamus, “let’s hear it.”

  Sean reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. He straightened it out, paused, and then cleared his throat.

  “Go ahead, Sean,” urged Katherine. “Read him the poem.”

  “Yes, the poem,” said Sean. After a few seconds, he started to read in his most dramatic voice:

  “My sweetheart is like a red, red rose,

  She’s sweet from her toes to the tip of her nose.

  She’s…”

  Shamus started choking and gasping for breath. “That’s it? Is this a joke? I’ve never heard anything so horrible in my life!”

  Sean shrugged, “Well, it’s just a work in progress, you know. It’s really not finished. I’m sure I can…”

  Shamus leapt to his feet, his face turning red. “I thought you were poetic! I thought you had a sensitive soul! That’s the worst love poem anyone has ever written!”

  “Well, maybe not the worst,” said Katherine softly. “Second worst possibly.”

  “Well, I won’t stand for it! Do you hear me?” screamed Shamus. “I need a beautiful love poem and I need it now! Why yesterday I went to see my dear lass Regan and she walked right past me. Wouldn’t even speak to me! I’m losing her, don’t you see?”

  “It doesn’t seem to me that you ever really had her,” said Katherine quietly.

  “That’s beside the point,” roared Shamus. “I’m relying on this poem to win her heart and make her fall in love with me. I need the most beautiful love poem ever written and you have given me…well, it’s rubbish. That’s all I can say.”

  “Calm down, Shamus,” said Sean. “I see that you’re not overly fond of my poem so far so…”

  Shamus pointed his finger angrily at Sean “Mark my words, Sean. If you don’t come up with a better poem in just three days—a poem that can win my Regan’s heart—you’ll be sporting that tail I warned you about for the rest of your life. And you’ll never get the gold to pay off the rest of your debt to Mrs. O’Malley so you’ll also been spendin’ the rest of your days in jail.”

  Sean sighed. “Calm down, Shamus. Calm down. You will have your poem and you will win Regan’s heart. I promise it.”

  Chapter 9: A Tale with a Tail

  “Yes, Katie,” Sean said quietly as Katherine started to look over his shoulder. ”I know I promised Shamus that I would have the poem finished in three days.”

  “And there’s only one day left now,” said Katherine.

  “I know that Katie,” he replied with a sigh. “I’m quite good at counting up to three if you haven’t noticed.”

  “So what’s the problem?” Katherine asked.

  “The problem is the same as it’s always been. How can you write a convincing love poem for someone you don’t know? It’s almost impossible.”

  “But Sean,” pleaded Katherine, “this is serious. The constable came to the house this morning and told me that you have only one more day to pay off the rest of the loan. And if you don’t do it, he’ll have to put you in jail, even though he doesn’t want to.”

  “I know. Katie, I know,” Sean said miserably.

  “And that’s not all!” said Katherine. “Shamus really will cast a magic spell on you, Sean. I’m sure of it.”

  “Yes, Katie,” said Sean, hanging his head. “I know he will. In fact, the spell is already starting to take effect. I noticed it this morning when I woke up.”

  “No, Sean! It can’t be…don’t tell he’s given you a…”

  “Yes,” said Sean. “A tail. It was a wee bit of a thing this morning, but I’m afraid it’s getting bigger. It’s getting harder and harder to sit down. And whatever will my Meagan think of me now?”

  “Ooh, that mean old leprechaun! I thought he’d at least wait until the three days were up before he started to work his magic spell,” said Katherine.

  “I’m afraid not, Katie,” said Sean. “But the thing is, it’s not making me work harder at the poem. In fact, now I’m so nervous I can hardly work at all.”

  Katherine hugged her brother’s shoulders. “I understand Sean, but what are we going to do now?”

  “Don’t despair, Katie. I don’t have another poem completed, but I do have an idea. If it works, everything will be all right. If it doesn’t, well, I guess I’m in the worst trouble of my life.”

  Chapter 10: From the Heart

  Shamus was worried and angry. He was angry because today was the last day that Sean had been given to write a new poem for Regan and it didn’t look like Sean was going to make the deadline. And now it was more important than ever that he have a poem to win Regan’s heart because he had managed to convince Regan to meet him here—at Leprechaun’s Glen—in just a few minutes. If Regan did come, and he had no poem to read to her, he would never be able to win her heart and would have to wander the world alone for the rest of his days.

  Just as Shamus was beginning to feel very sorry for himself, he heard the sound of people coming through the woods. Sure enough, it was Sean and Katherine.

  “Tis’ about time you’ve come,” said Shamus. “My darling Regan will be here in just a few moments and I must have a poem to win her heart. So, if you don’t mind, please deliver the poem to me quickly and be on your way. My dear Regan doesn’t have much experience with mortals and it would not please her much to run into the likes of you.”

  “I’m not sure what the best way to tell you this, Shamus, but I don’t have a poem for you,” said Sean.

  “No poem!” Shamus roared. “What am I to do? I’ll…”

  “But Shamus,” Sean interrupted. “It’s a good thing that I don’t have a poem for you.”

  “A good thing?” Shamus spluttered. “How could that be a good thing?”

  “Because now, Shamus, you’ll have to use your own voice and your own words to tell Regan you love her,” said Sean calmly.

  “But she’ll never…she won’t…she’ll just walk away…she’ll,” said Shamus, his head sinking to his chest.

  “Listen, Shamus,” said Sean. I don’t have a poem to make Regan fall in love with
you because I can’t express what is in your heart. But I do have a short poem that I want you to hear:

  If you want Regan to love you,

  You must do your part.

  Only feelings that come from you

  Will go straight to her heart.”

  “So Shamus, it’s only your words, coming from your heart that could ever do the trick.” Sean continued eagerly. “And there’s no way to find those words but to seek them boldly. Just go to her and, without any hesitation whatsoever, tell her how you feel.”

  Just at that moment, Shamus heard a gentle sound in back of him. He whirled around to face the opposite end of the glen and there was a small leprechaun lass with bright red, curly hair and a sweet, shy smile. Shamus’ eyes lit up and he hurried toward her. “So you’ve come then, and right on time,” he said happily.

  “Yes, I’ve come,” Regan said quietly. “But I’m not sure why. Who are those two mortals over there? Why are they here?”

  “Ah, yes, the mortals…to be sure, Regan, they’re merely my…uh…assistants,” said Shamus.

  “Your assistants?” asked Regan. “And why on earth would you be needin’

  assistants, Shamus? You of all people? I thought you said your magical powers could accomplish anything.”

  “And so they can, Regan dear, so they can,” Shamus replied quickly. “It’s just that…well, really I’ve been assisting them.”

  “Oh, so you’ve been assisting your assistants?” said Regan, a slight smile coming to her lips.

  “Well, yes…in a way…it’s actually very confusing…”said Shamus.

  “We were just leaving,” said Katherine. “Thanks very much for all your help, Shamus.”

  “Indeed, indeed, all my help… yes, you’re quite welcome,” said Shamus, turning to face Katherine and Sean who were slowly backing away into the woods.

  As Katherine and Sean began to disappear into the woods, Regan crossed her arms and looked intently at Shamus. “We’re alone now, Shamus. Now what is it you wanted to say to me?”

  Obviously flustered, Shamus looked down and shuffled his feet. “Well, you see…it’s just that…”

  “It’s just that what, Shamus? Please tell me what’s on your mind,” said Regan.

  “Well, the thing is…,” began Shamus. “The thing is that you’re on my mind, Regan. You’re on my mind night and day and there’s nothing I can do about it.”