Leprecaun's Lament

A parody, of sorts, that makes one think

              Leprecauns'  Lament



                We have become opaquely pale
                shadows of our former selves
                when we danced o'er dell and dale
                with our country cousin Elves

                Knocknasheeba was our home
                where the Banshee screamed her song
                now we're nomads forced to roam
                a world in which we don't belong

                hands that used to flow with gold
                now beg alms from passersby
                as we grow gnarled and thinly old
                under unfamiliar sky

                magic that was once our trade
                lies forgotten in our hearts
                shattered like King Balin's blade
                into many fractured parts

                the music that we loved so well
                rings but faintly in our ears
                like some distant funeral bell
                bringing only grief and tears

                so we wander squalid lanes
                sinking deeper into plight
                feeling fears and mortal pains
                as wretched creatures of the night


                C.  Lon  R.  Bruso