Linna Sue, a fine door-full of a woman, had a firm thatched roof, a roaring fire in her hearth and a good man that could talk the teeth out of a saw. Old Har was a cunning hunter, a good provider and loved his Linna Sue true.

Some say she was fey. Others simply called her daft. But the good-hearted Linna Sue dinna mind. She was use to what the others thought of her and her stories. Laugh they might at her nose stones and hairy chin. It dinna matter to her. For she knew what was true.

Like, Little People really do exist.

You can believe or not. Linna Sue gave up whistling jigs to a milestone long ago.

But every St. Patrick's Day, after a pleasing meal of Dublin Coddle and hearty soda bread, washed down with a little green Coca Cola, Linna Sue finds herself swimming in a little pool of melancholy. And if ya asked as sweet as a bowl of cream, she just might share her story.

It goes something like this:

"I canna find my library book," Linna Sue told Old Har one day,

"I looked and looked but it is gone. And where I canna say."

For days they searched, looking high and low, until their hands they threw up in disgust.

Old Har said "You'll have to pay the fine I fear, no more books to you will they entrust."

Just when Linna Sue was prepared to pay, the book did suddenly appear.

It laid in plain sight on the desk and Linna Sue thought "Ahhhh, the fairies are playing tricks, I fear."

She went to wear a lovely brooch, the Shamrock one with stones as green as the Emerald Isle.

But when she opened her jewelry drawer, it was no where to be seen in amongst her treasured pile.

For days she searched, looking high and low, in every crook, cranny and inch.

She shook her fist and scolded loud and cried "Bring me brooch back, you wee little imps."

It was a Tuesday morning, gray and wet, when she happened to pass by,

A table filled with books and papers, where something caught her eye.

Her darlin' brooch shone clear as emeralds, winkin' merrily and bright,

She clasped it to her chest and sighed, "Ahh but you're a gift to me old sore and sorry sight."

Then she held it out and spoke to it, "And just where have you been hiding?"

It was then she caught a glimpse of green and heard a trail of laughter down the hall subsiding.

Linna Sue ran after for all that she was worth but catch it she could not,

"I'm not sure," she mumbled under her breath, "but a fairy that was not."

She hugged the thought to her ownself, afraid of what Old Har would say,

Cause her things kept disappearing, reappearing, and she really thought she might be fey.

Every time a dear lost item was found in the light of another day,

She'd spy a bit of green, a touch of red, and the sound of laughter began to fill her with dismay.

So to Old Har, she finally confessed, of the madness she was fearing,

And after felt a weight had lifted, and set her eyes to tearing.

Old Har came to her defense. "No fairy, wee person or Leprechaun, will make fools of us,

We'll hunt it down and trap it, and with a rope it will be trussed.

Then we'll ask for our three wishes and demand his pot of gold

Before we release him, for this game is getting old."

They whispered plans and set their traps, but no Leprechaun did they catch,

Old Har used every trick and feared, he may have met his match.

Then he remembered an old story about the little people when he was just a lad,

Leprechauns like mending shoes, their pot of gold, and taunting makes them mad.

So they worked on setting one more ruse to be tried on their wily adversary,

For determined they were to be, his pot of gold's soul beneficiary.

He set a bit of gold coin next to a pair of tattered torn old shoes,

And Old Har began to taunt, as only an Irishman can do.

"Oh Linna Sue, do you know what I heard down at Paddy's pub today,

As I was raising a pint with me boyos, old Sheamus had this to say.

A new cobbler has come to town, the best he's ever seen,

And when he's done with the mend, they're polished to a bright shiny sheen.

No Leprechaun can best him, is his bold and honest boast,

So tomorrow I'll be taking me shoes to him, and for dinner I'd like a roast."

As the couple slept, a small fellow dressed, in green with bright red hair and beard,

Crept toward the shoes and coin, not knowing the table with butter had been smeared.

He'd show them who was the best, and take the gold coin for his pay,

But when he went to grab the shoes, he slipped and there he lay.

Old Har and Linna Sue had been watching, and upon him they did pounce,

"If you want us to let you go, you owe us three wishes," Old Har did announce.

"We ask for good health, long life and a vacation on a tropical far-away land,

Then leave your pot of gold on the table, because sure and that would be grand."

The Leprechaun begrudgingly did grant the couple their three wishes,

And before he left their cottage, a pot of gold sat next to their dishes.

But laying next to their newly found treasure was a small wee bit of a note,

"It wasn't me who took your stuff, but me who found them for you, you old goat."

Since then on every St. Patrick's Day, Linna Sue sits sad and sorely depressed,

And if you ask her why, this is what she says, in a voice most distressed.

"Aye, we got our lovely three wishes and most days, happy are we,

But I canna dance the Irish jig and laugh with Irish glee.

You see, the Leprechaun has left for good, and Old Har is going to give such a scold,

For it seems, by Faith and Begorrah, I canna remember where I put that darn old pot of gold!"