A True Christmas Story.

Now for those of you who may not have noticed and for those of you who couldn’t not notice in fact for everyone who loves a heart warming tale as we enter this glorious month of December. Here is a tale about a man who had very little to give except a story. I think it is worth telling because it conveys a valuable message; No matter how tough things are, don't give up. You just don't know what lies around the corner. It’s called:

A True Christmas Story.

Robert May was a short man, barely five feet in height. He was born in the early part of the last century, that is to say, the nineteen hundreds.

Bullied at school, he was ridiculed and humiliated by other children because he was smaller than other boys of the same age. Even as he grew up, he was often mistaken for someone’s little brother.

When he left college he became employed as a copywriter with Montgomery Ward, the big Chicago mail order house. He married and in due course, his wife presented him with a daughter. Then when his little daughter was two years old, tragedy struck; his wife was diagnosed with cancer. She became bedridden and remained so until she died. Nearly everything he earned went on medication and doctor’s bills. Money was short and life was hard.

One evening in early December of 1938 and two years into his wife’s illness, his four-year-old daughter climbed onto his knee and asked,

“Daddy, why isn’t Mummy like everybody else’s mummy?”

It was a simple question, asked with childlike curiosity. But it struck a personal chord with Robert May.

His mind flashed back to his own childhood. He had often posed a similar question,

 “Why can’t I be tall, like the other kids?”

The stigma attached to those who are different is sometimes very hard to bear. Groping for something to say to give comfort to his daughter, he began to tell her a story. It was about someone else who was different, someone else who was ridiculed, humiliated and excluded because of their difference.

Robert told the story in a humorous way, making it up as he went along; in the way that many fathers often do.

His daughter laughed, giggled and clapped her hands as the misfit finally triumphed at the end. She then made her father tell the story all over again from the beginning to the end and every night after that he had to repeat the story before she would go to sleep.

Because he had no money for fancy presents, Robert decided that he would put the story into book form. He had some artistic talent and he created illustrations. This was to be his daughter’s Christmas present.

The book of the story that she loved so much.

He converted the story into a poem.

On the night before Christmas Eve, he was persuaded to attend his office Christmas Party. He took the poem along and showed it to a colleague. The colleague was impressed and insisted that Robert read his poem aloud to everyone else at the party. Somewhat embarrassed by the attention, he took the small hand written volume from his pocket and began to read. At first the noisy group listened in laughter and amusement. But then became silent and after he finished, they broke into spontaneous applause.

Later, and feeling quite pleased with himself, he went home, wrapped the book in Christmas wrapping paper and placed it under the modest Christmas tree. On Christmas morning to say that his daughter was pleased with her present would be an understatement. She loved it!

When Robert returned to work after the Holiday, he was summoned to the office of his head of department. He wanted to talk to Robert about his poem. It seemed that word had got out about his reading at the Christmas party. The Head of Marketing was looking for a promotional tool and wondered if Robert would be interested in having his poem published.

The following year, 1939, copies of the book were given to every child who visited the department stores of Montgomery Ward and it eventually became an international best seller, making Robert a very rich man. His wife had unfortunately died during this time, but he was able to move from the small apartment they lived in and buy a big house. He was at last able to provide handsomely for his growing daughter.

The story is not quite over. In 1947, songwriter Johnny Marks used the theme of Robert’s poem for a song. He showed the song to a famous film star of the day, Gene Autry, ‘The Singing Cowboy’. Autry recorded the song and it became a world-wide number one hit. You may just remember it. The first line goes....”Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer had a very shiny nose.....!”

This is but one version of the story, there may be others but this is the one that I like to tell.

The Leprechauns Revenge.

The leprechaun can be very bitter if you offend them and so you should be very careful when dealing with them. Always treat them with respect or they may take their revenge and then you will never learn the secret of hidden treasure.

Here’s another story about the same Leprechaun, with a different outcome. Once again I’ve given it a bit of a local twist.

The Leprechauns Revenge.

Once upon a time there was a cruel horrible boy working in a field when he saw a little man in a red hat, green trousers, yellow jumper and a leather apron. He was the smallest man he had ever seen, not even as big as the boys hand.

The little man was sat under a dock leaf and the boy heard a sound drifting across on the breeze, tic tack, tic tack came the sound of a hammer tapping away and as the boy watched he saw that the little man was mending shoes.

The boy quietly sneaked over, never taking his eyes off him just in case he vanished, for he knew what it was.  When he got close enough he made a quick grab for the leprechaun, lifted him up and stuffed him into his pocket. He then ran back home and when he was safely back in his own house he locked the door and windows then put an iron chain around the leprechauns leg and chained him to the fire crane hanging over the fire.

“Now, tell me where I can find your pot of gold” the boy said “Tell me or I’ll punish you”

“What are ye talking about ye eejit, I know of no pot of gold” replied the leprechaun, “Let me go so I can finish mending the shoes”.

“You asked for it” said the cruel and horrible boy “I’ll force you to tell me”

He made a great big fire and then hung the little leprechaun from the fire crane and swung him over the fire, scorching him.

“Take me off, take me off” cried the leprechaun” “I’ll tell you everything you wish to know. The gold is under the dock leaf where you found me all you have to do is dig down and it’s all there waiting for you”

Of course the boy was delighted with himself and ran to the door but just then his mother came through the door with a bucket of milk in her hand and in his rush to get past her didn’t he knock the bucket out of her hand and the milk went all over the floor.  The mother saw the leprechaun hanging from the fire crane and blaming him for her bad luck she pulled him down gave him a kick and fired him out of the house. You can tell where her son got his cruel streak from

By this stage the boy had ran off to find the dock leaf but later on in the evening he returned home looking very sorry for himself. He had dug down until he thought he would end up in Australia but found no sign of a pot of gold. That same night the boy’s father was returning home from work, as he passed the old fairy fort at Sheeaune he heard the sound of voices and laughter and one voice said,

“They are looking for a pot of gold but little do they know that a crock of gold is lying down in the bottom of the old quarry out the quay. It’s still hidden under the stones next to the big house but whoever gets it must go when its pitch black at midnight, and must not take his wife with him under any circumstances”

Well of course the man hurried home and told his wife what he had heard. They decided that he must go that very night as it was promised to be a cloudy night so there would be no moon and it would be pitch black. She promised she would stay at home and watch for him until he came back. Off he went into the dark, black night.

“Right” thought the wife when he was gone, “All I have to do is get to the quarry before him and I’ll have the pot of gold all to meself and he can go and whistle for he’ll get nothing from me” Wasn’t she a lovely woman.

She went out the front door and ran like the wind until she reached the quarry and then she began to creep down very quietly looking for the stones near the big house. Of course it was that dark she couldn’t see anything and all of a sudden she tripped over a great big stone, she fell into the quarry, down, down, down she fell, bouncy, bouncy, bounce until she hit the bottom and there she lay groaning for she had broken her legs in the fall. Oh dear.

Just then her husband arrived, coming to the edge of the quarry he began to climb down but all of a sudden he heard the sound of groaning in the darkness, he was very frightened.

“Mother of god, what is that unholy noise” he said to himself, “it’s coming from down below, is it good or is it evil”

His wife heard him talking to himself and shouted “Oh thank god its you, come down here and help me, I’ve broken me legs and I’ll die if you don’t get me out of here” she cried.

“Ah now thats not fair, this was my pot of gold and now I have to leave it here while I help you” Well he couldn’t leave her there could he. Answers to WRFM on the back of a postcard please.

The poor man didn’t know what to do, it was so dark you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. There was only one thing to do, he’d have to get help from the neighbours. Between them they got a rope around the poor woman and dragged her screaming up to the top of the quarry and carried her home. They put her onto the bed but it was many days before she was able to get up and about and for the rest of her life she walked with a limp. In fact it became known as the curse of the leprechauns limp.

As for the pot of gold, well from that day to this not one of the family, father, son or mother, or any one belonging to them have ever set eyes on it. The leprechaun still sits under his dock leaf by the hedgerow and laughs to himself as he mends his shoes with his little hammer. Tic tack tic tack tic tack.  Funny thing is no one bothers the little man in the red hat anymore. Now they know he can take revenge and there’s always the curse of the leprechauns limp.

The Leprechaun of Sheeaune.

Here is another story about the fairy cobbler. This one I’ve given a local twist. It’s called:

 

The Leprechaun of Sheeaune.

The Leprechauns are happy, hard working, mischievous members of the fairie realm. They are the shoemakers, the cobblers, and the tailors for the fairy gentry and are often seen at sunset underneath a hedge singing, stitching and tapping away but only by those with the power to see them. They are said to know where all the hidden treasure is and if they take a shine to someone then they may guide them to a spot in a fairy rath where a pot of gold lies buried. It is rumoured that there is a family somewhere around Westport in County Mayo who came by their riches in a rather mysterious way. It is said that it was through the good services of a friendly leprechaun and this story has been handed down through the generations as being the pure truth. I’ll leave you to decide.

Once upon a time long, long ago one of this families ancestors was nothing more than a poor boy who used to drive his cart of turf back and forward every day trying his best to sell it for as much as he could. It is said that he was a strange young boy, very quiet and moody and some people even suspected that he may have been a changeling. He never joined in any of the games or sports with the other young lads choosing instead to spend his time all alone reading any old book he could pick up on his rambles. If he had a dream at all it was to get rich and to be able to give up the old turf cart and to live a peaceful quiet life all alone with nothing but books, a beautiful house and a garden where he could sit all alone and listen to the sound of the birdsong and the gentle humming of bees.

One of the things he had read about in his old books was the story about the leprechaun and how they knew all the secret places where gold lay buried and every day he watched from the seat of his old turf cart for the sight of the little cobbler, every day he would listen for the tic tack tic tack of the hammer as the shoemaker would sit under the hedgerow mending the shoes.

At last his patience was rewarded, one evening just as the sun was setting he was heading home when he saw a little man in a red hat, dressed in green. He was sitting under a dock leaf working away and humming softly to himself.

The young boy jumped down from his cart and grabbed the little man by the neck.

“Now I have you” he cried, “Tell me where your gold is hidden”

“Take it easy now” said the leprechaun “don’t hurt me and I’ll tell you all about it. Mind you, I could hurt you if I chose for I have the power, but I won’t do it for we are cousins once removed. So as we are near relations I’ll just be good and show you the place of the secret gold. No mortal can see it but as you have fairy blood and are a relation of the fairy race you’ll be able to have it. You’ll have to hurry up though because we have to go out to the fairy fort near Sheeaune for there it lies. Hurry, for when the last rays of the sun vanish the gold will disappear also and you’ll never find it or me again”

“Come on then” said the boy and he carried the leprechaun into the turf cart and off they set. They were quickly at the old fort and they went through a door made in a stone wall.

“Now, look around you” said the leprechaun and the boy saw the whole floor covered with gold pieces and solid silver buckets filled with more gold, it was if all the riches in the world was there just waiting for him to pick it up.

“Hurry, take what you want” said the leprechaun, “You will have to be quick because if the door shuts you will never leave this place for as long as you live”

The young boy gathered up as much gold as he could carry and threw it into his cart and was on his way back for more when the door shut with a sound like thunder and all of a sudden Sheeaune was plunged into the dark of night. The young boy was never to see the leprechaun again and felt sorry because he never even got to say thank you.  He decided to drive home at once with his treasure and when he was alone he counted his riches and found it to be enough to pay a kings ransom, or what he imagined a kings ransom to be from reading such things in his old books. Mind you, the young boy was cute enough to keep his mouth shut and to say nothing. He told no one about his good luck and the following morning he was up early and headed to the Credit Union and put all his money into a special account for some reason he didn’t trust the banks. I’m saying nothing. The very nice man at the credit union advised the young boy that he was now as rich as a lord and could have whatever money could buy, Even in them days there was a credit union.

So the young boy ordered a fine house to be built with spacious gardens and a huge library that he filled with books. He employed the best teachers he could find to give him the education he yearned for and in time he became a great and powerful man in County Mayo. If I was to tell you the family name you would know as much as me and it would take the joy out of wondering. His memory is still held in high esteem and his descendents are still living around Westport to this day rich and prosperous for their wealth has never decreased even though they give a lot to charity and will always try to help those who are genuine.

The Fairies Revenge.

You may believe in fairies, you may not. Here follows a story about the consequences of refusing to give a little charity.

 

The Fairies Revenge.

The Fairie folk don’t like it when mortal men build on or interfere with their raths or mounds. Once upon a time there was an old farmer called Byrnes, he had loads of money and loads of land. He decided to build a new house and chose a beautiful spot on top of a hill where there stood a lone hawthorn tree. It had a grand view of the surrounding countryside and from this spot he could see all his land and cattle, it was perfect. Unfortunately for Byrnes it was the very spot that was loved by the fairies.

Of course his neighbours tried to warn him that if he built on the fairy rath it would only result in heartache for himself and his family but he just laughed. He refused to listen you see he was from the north east and had turned his back on the old ways, as far as he was concerned that sort of thing was for the old people and a load of auld rubbish. He built his house, it was certainly beautiful for Byrnes may have been short of sense but he wasn’t short of money. A rumour began to circulate that Byrnes must have found a pot of gold while digging up the fairy rath.

The Fairies began to plot their revenge on the farmer for taking away their dancing grounds and for cutting down the hawthorn tree where they held their parties when the moon was full. One day when Mrs Byrnes was milking the cows a little old woman in a blue cloak came up to her and asked her if she could have a small jug of milk.

“Get away from here” said the farmer’s wife, “you’ll get nothing here, I’ll have no beggars coming on my land” and she told the farm hands to chase her away.

Shortly afterwards, the best and finest of the cows became sick, and very soon after that they layed down in the field and died.

It was a couple of weeks after this had happened and Mrs Byrnes was sitting in her house spinning wool when the same little old woman in the blue cloak suddenly appeared in front of her,

“Your maids are baking cakes in the kitchen” she said, “Will you give me one to carry away with me”

“Get away from here” screamed the farmer’s wife, “You’re a wicked old hag, the last time I saw you some of my best cows died. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had poisoned them. Now I’ve warned you before I’ll have no beggars on my land” and with that the farmer’s wife told her farm hands to drive the old woman away with sticks.

The Byrnes had only one child, a handsome. clever little boy. He was as strong as a young colt, full of life and as happy as any young child should be but soon after this episode with the old women he began to grow a little strange and distant, he began to complain that he couldn’t sleep. He said that the fairies came to him every night and pinched and hit him, some of them sat on his chest and he said he couldn’t breathe or move. The fairies told him that they would not leave him in peace unless he promised to give them a supper every night of a cake and a small jug of milk. In order to settle the child his mother had a cake and a small jug of milk placed on his bedside table every night and every morning they were gone.

However, the young boy still grew sickly and his eyes took on a strange  wild look. It was if he saw nothing around him only something far, far away and he seemed to be very troubled. His parents asked him what was the matter and he told them that every night the fairies came to his room and carried him away to the hills where he was forced to dance with them until the morning and then they would bring him back and lay him in his bed.

Eventually the farmer and his wife were at their wits end with grief and despair because their only child was fading away before their eyes and they seemed unable to do anything about it. One night he cried out in great agony,

“Mother, mother, send for the priest to take away the fairies for they are killing me. They are sat on my chest crushing me to death” and his eyes were wild with terror.

Now as we know the farmer and his wife didn’t believe in fairies and they didn’t believe in priests either but in order to soothe the child they did as he asked and sent for the priest who prayed over him and sprinkled him with holy water. This seemed to calm the little boy down and he said the fairies were leaving him and going away and then he sank into a deep sleep. When he woke up in the morning he told his parents that he had a beautiful dream and was walking in a lovely garden with the angels. He said he knew it was heaven and that he would be there before nightfall as the angels told him they would come for him.

The farmer and his wife watched over the sick child all through the night, they knew he still had the fever on him but hoped that a change would come before morning. The child slept peacefully and calmly and had a little smile on his lips as if he was having a happy dream. Suddenly the clock struck midnight, the little boy awoke and sat up. His mother put her arms around him and began to cry as he whispered,

“The angels are here mother” and then he sank back and died.

Afterwards the farmer was a broken man, he never held his head up in public. He stopped looking after the farm and his crops went to ruin, the cattle all died and his workers left. It was just about a year after the death of his little boy that the farmer died, he was laid in a grave by his child’s side and the farm passed into other hands. No one would live in the house so it was pulled down. No one would plant on the rath so the grass began to grow again and it was soon covered once more in a beautiful green colour. It is said that the fairies dance there once more in the moonlight as they used to do in the old times, free and happy and so the evil spell cast by the old woman in a blue cloak was broken for evermore.

As for the child’s mother, well people refused to have anything to do with her and she eventually returned to her own people, a broken hearted and miserable woman. This story serves as a warning to all who would arouse the vengeance of the fairies by interfering with their ancient rights.

The Old Witch.

The next story is about an old woman who was feared by those who were jealous of her wealth. Was she guilty of being in league with dark forces or just misunderstood. It’s called

The Old Witch.

Once upon a time long, long ago, somewhere in County Mayo there lived an old woman that all the neighbours were afraid of. She always seemed to have loads of money but no one knew where it came from or how she managed to be so wealthy. She had no husband, no land, no livestock, and she had no rich relatives that may have either left her money or a big inheritance. It was a complete mystery but every night the sound of eating, drinking, and merriment could be heard on the wind coming from the direction of her old cottage. She seemed to have the best of wine, fowl, sweet stuff, and the best cuts of meat delivered to her door and yet when people dared asked how she managed to pay for it all she would simply laugh and say,

“I have paid for it, now mind your own business” and she would walk off mumbling to herself about nosy neighbours.

Off course it wasn’t long before jealous townsfolk began to spread rumours that the old woman was in league with the devil and she could have whatever she wanted just by merely wishing for it. Soon she began to be called “The Old Witch”. She never went out of her house during daylight only at night when darkness fell and she always carried a bridle and whip in her hand. People said that they often heard the sound of a horse galloping far off into the night especially from the direction of the old women’s cottage.

Soon another rumour began to spread, this was a strange story that said if a young man drank some of her fine wine at supper he would shortly afterwards fall into a deep sleep. The Old Witch would then throw a bridle over him, change him into a horse and ride him all over the county. It was also said that whatever she touched with her whip became hers. Fowl, wine, the best of bread and butter, cheese, meat, and new baked cakes. All she had to do was make a wish and spirit hands would carry them to her cottage and place them in her larder. When she had all she needed or wanted then she would ride the horse back to her cottage remove its bridle and whisper a magic spell and it would return to the shape of the young man, still fast asleep and with no knowledge of all that had taken place. Once he woke up from his deep sleep the Old Witch would invite him to “come again” and drink of her expensive wine as often as it pleased him.

It was said that there was a brave young man in the neighbourhood who decided to get to the bottom of these stories. He began to walk past the old women’s cottage every day and with a cheery wave would shout out,

“Good morning mam, How are you today”

Gradually he made friends with the old women and he began to sit outside her cottage and pass the time of day with her. However, he was always watching her knowing that she would try to bewitch him.  Soon the old woman took a shine to him and invited him to supper. She told him that if he came she would give him the best meal he would ever eat; he would have the best of everything especially the wine.

A night was agreed and the young man turned up at her front door full of curiosity. Upon entering the cottage he saw on the table the most beautiful supper he had ever seen, there was plenty of food to eat and plenty of wine to drink. The young man knew the stories about the wine so he was very careful and when the old woman wasn’t looking he emptied the contents of his glass onto the ground. In those days cottages had earth floors so the wine quickly soaked in. He began to pretend to be very sleep and the old woman said,

“Oh you poor thing, you look very weary. Why not have a lie down and sleep here tonight for it’s getting late and you’re far from home”

He lay down on one of the benches in the cottage and pretended he was fast asleep, but he watched her all the time.

Eventually the old woman crept over to the bench and looked at him. He never stirred, breathing heavily he looked to be fast asleep. She quietly walked over to where the bridle was hanging from a hook on the wall, taking it down she walked back to where the young man was sleeping and went to fling it over his head. He jumped up, seized the bridle and before she knew what was happening he threw the bridle over her head. Immediately she was changed into a horse, he led her out into the yard, jumped up onto her back and rode away as fast as the wind until he came to the blacksmiths forge.

“Hoy Smithy” he cried, “Get up out of your bed, I have a horse to be shod and she is weary after the journey”

The blacksmith did as the young man asked and when he had finished the young man paid him well, climbed back onto the horse and rode like the wind back to the house of the old woman, the old witch woman. There he took of the bridle and she immediately regained her own form and sank into a deep sleep. Unfortunately for the old woman the blacksmith had shoed the horse without whispering the magic spell, well how was he to know. So when she woke up the horse shoes remained on her hands and feet and no power on earth could remove them.

The Old Witch never rose from her bed again and died not long after, some say it was from grief and shame. No one followed her on her last journey, no one went to her graveside. The bridle was burned and all her riches disappeared. Nothing was left but a handful of ashes and they were flung to the four points of the earth to be blown away by the four winds. So the enchantment was broken and the power of the Evil One was ended. However, what happened to the old woman’s whip.  I’ll let you write an ending.

The Pot of Gold

The Pot of Gold.

Sean Kelly lived alone, he had no wife because no girl in her right mind would marry him because he was lazy, dirty looking, and smelly. He was the sort of fella that thought hard work was meant for everyone else but not for him. His neighbours kept their land neat, well tended and fenced but his fields were full of weeds, his gates were broken and his fences and hedges untended allowing his cattle to roam the roads

Sean spent his time day dreaming, you see he had great plans believing that one day he would be rich and have everything he needed or wished for. Lady luck was definitely going to smile on Sean Kelly, or so he believed.

One Sunday morning Sean got up early which was unusual for him but as it was a feast day he had decided the night before that he would walk into the nearby town of Westport where there was going to be sports, dancing, and drinking. He put on his only suit, a bit smelly but he didn’t seem to notice as he stank anyway, then he put on his best silk tie waved a comb at the bit of hair he had left and looked in the mirror.

“Oh what a treat for the young ladies” he said and he smiled. A pity really as he had few teeth and what he had were yellow and broken. Sean opened his cottage door and headed down the road.  It was a long walk into Westport, he was passing by his own sorry looking fields and it didn’t seem to bother him that as he walked by he looked across the road to his neighbours which were full of lush green grass and healthy looking cattle. He felt sorry for his neighbours as they were always slaving away even today when he was on his way to enjoy the day’s festivities.

 As Sean walked along the road he noticed that one of his shoe laces had become undone so he bent down to tie it. Suddenly he heard a noise,

“Tic Tack Tic Tack”

It seemed to be coming from behind the hedge that ran along the side of the field he was passing but what was it? He listened again and once again he heard it,

“Tic Tack Tic Tack”

Sean was very puzzled, what on earth was it. Maybe it was a grasshopper, but no this sound was louder and sharper, could it be a thrush smashing a snails shell against a stone, no he thought this sounded very different. Sean stood up and looked through a small gap in the hedge. What he saw nearly caused him to fall into the ditch. There in the middle of the field sat the smallest man he had ever seen. He was wearing a red hat with a white feather in it, green trousers and a yellow jumper. He was also wearing a leather apron. Sean nearly swallowed his broken teeth in surprise for what he was looking at was a Leprechaun.

Sean gave a big grin, here was the bit of luck he had been waiting for. Straightening his tie he climbed through the hedge ripping his smelly suit on the briars, but it didn’t matter because he would soon have all the money he would ever need and he would be able to buy a hundred new suits if he wanted, or so he thought. The Leprechaun looked up as Sean stepped into the field.

“Good morning to you Sean, are you headed into town for the festivities” asked the little Leprechaun,

“I was but then I heard you tapping away so I thought I’d just stop to say hello” replied Sean,

“Well you’re very welcome” said the Leprechaun for he was very polite, “Why don’t you sit down and have a rest, there’s a lovely little rock there behind you”

Sean was just about to turn to look for the rock when he remembered the old stories that said if you took your eyes off a Leprechaun even for a second it would disappear never to be seen again.

“He’s a crafty little fella” thought Sean, “I’ll have to be careful otherwise I’ll lose everything” So he stood where he was.

“That’s a great little shoe you’re making” Sean said,

“It is indeed” replied the Leprechaun. “There’s going to be a great ball tonight and I’m making a pair of dancing shoes for the Queen of the Fairies”

Sean had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

“They’re absolutely gorgeous” he said, “but it isn’t a pair of dancing shoes I’m looking for, even a pair as lovely as those”

“No, I didn’t think it was” sighed the Leprechaun,

“No indeed” said Sean, “I’m after your pot of gold. Everyone knows that Leprechauns have a huge pot of gold and I want it”

“A pot of gold” laughed the Leprechaun, “You’re pulling me leg aren’t you. Why do you think I’m sat here in the middle of a field making a pair of shoes while everyone else are enjoying the festivities”

“Why you decided to work has nothing to do with me, I’ve never understood the need meself. But this is my field you’re sitting in and I demand you hand over your gold immediately” Said Sean, a little annoyed.

“This is your field is it, well you should be ashamed of yourself, look at it, its full of poisonous ragwort and all the seeds are blowing into your neighbours fields. You must be bone idle” said the leprechaun.

“How dare you” roared Sean who was now in a terrible temper. He had already heard complaints about the state of his fields from his neighbours and he didn’t want to hear any from a little shoemaker.

 “Now give me my pot of gold” and he grabbed the little leprechaun in a vicious grip.

“Let me go” squeeled the leprechaun, “You’re hurting me, You’re squeezing me that hard I’m meeting in the middle and I can’t breathe”

“I’ll let you go when you show me where my pot of gold is” roared Sean.

“All right, all right keep yoer hair on, you haven’t got much left anyway” said the leprechaun, “Just put me down and I’ll show you”

Sean threw him down onto the grass. The leprechauns little red hat was squashed sideways with his feather bent. The leprechaun scrambled across to a clump of ragwort.

“It’s under here” he said with a sulk.

Sean looked at the ragwort and let out a groan, how was he going to dig that up out of the ground. The field was dotted with ragwort, if he left to get a spade the leprechaun would disappear and he’d never find the spot again.

Now every time Sean started to think he began to sweat and this was one of those times. He reached down and began to loosen his tie when suddenly it gave him an idea. With a big grin he took off his tie, tied it around the ragwort.

“I’m going home to get a spade” he said to the leprechaun, “Will you give me your word of honour that you will not touch that tie”

“I will and you need not worry, I promise you that I will not touch your tie” said the leprechaun.

Sean may have been bone idle and lazy but he could move very quickly when he wanted to and he was back home in a few minutes, found his spade and was back at the field in a flash. However, when he reached the field he threw the spade to the ground. The leprechaun had gone and red ties waved cheerfully in the breeze from thousands of clumps of ragwort.

Sean didn’t go to Westport that day, he spent it sewing the holes in his ripped old suit. Once or twice he thought he heard someone laughing but it may have been the wind coming down his chimney. He never bought himself a new suit, but he did have hundreds of new red ties to wear on his next visit to Westport.