I walked into the woods, one foggy March day, And what do you think I did see? A little green man no more than two feet, Sittin' there, starin' at me He had a tall hat, with a shamrock on top, And he jumped when I started to talk, He bid me good day, started running away, Much faster than my feet could walk.

I asked him to wait, for I meant him no harm, And He paused just a moment to say, "I'm sure that you've heard, if you catch me, my gold, Will be yours on this Saint Patrick's Day."  I told him I had, but I learned long ago, You appreciate more, what you've earned. And I'd much rather have him here as a friend, Then he stopped on a dime and returned.

He said all his life, people chased him about,... For his gold was worth much they were told. But the words that had just come out of my mouth, Could stop a Leprechaun cold.

For tis true that a friend, is worth more than gold, And he wished that more people had seen. That it wasn't St. Patrick's Day, Shamrocks or elves, ...but their envy That turned them all green.


Poem by: Ann Wittig



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