Bridgeen and the Leprechaun

Tick, tack, tickety, tack!I've not a breath to lose;Bad manners to their dancing,But they're cruel on their shoes!The quane plays on her silver pipes,The king lolls on his throne,But underneath the hawthorn threeI mend and moil alone.

They trail their robes of shiny silk,Wear many a jeweled ring;I'd make them careful of their broguesIf I could be the king.They ride the wind from cloud to cloud'Mid wonder and delight,But I must stitch the satin shoesThe quane will wear to-night.

The mist is on the spangled fields;I'm perished with the frost!If a mortal's eye falls on me,Tare an' ages, sure I'm lost!He may ask for love and beauty;Sure they always ask for wealth;Much good in love or beauty ——Huh! I'd rather have me health.

Tick, tack, tickety, tack ——