The Blue Stone of Blarney

On the emerald Isle of Eire

amidst deep blue seas faraway,

A band of naughty leprechauns gather

on the evenin’ of St. Paddy’s Day.

Wearin’ top hats and waistcoats of green

with silver buckled belts and shoes,

Tight stockin’s instead of breeches they wear

in colors of their favorite hues.

Naughty eyes wink ‘bove rosy cheeked smiles

from statures not high off the ground,

Oglin’ women blush and men folk turn green

at the sight of bulgin’- manly mounds.

Prancin’ and dancin’ around with glee

in Blarney Castle’s forest green,

Clickin’ heels up high ’round a campfire light

their happy silhouettes can be seen.

Hands on spigots from wooden kegs fill;

hailin’ empty pints with their brew,

Fiddlin’ hands and laughter fills the night air

a risin’ moon show the night’s still new.

From a pole a tied maiden cries out

in fear of their naughty intent,

Caught while kissin’ the Blarney Stone to cure

her stutterin’ speech impediment.

Above the castle’s mossy ramparts

eyes from betwixt their merlons peek,

A prince and his knights have come to Blarney

for a cure from its bluestone he seeks.

Vexed by a spell from a wicked witch

since that decade and five he reached,

‘Twas mean’t for his father the reignin’ king

‘stead it silenced his own words of speech.

Now a score and a prince of valor

ire fills their hearts at what they see,

Flyin’ capes and swords rage down torchlit steps

on armored steeds they’ll answer her pleas.

Eyes of mirth now opened wide with fright

as the thunder of hooves draw near,

Pints thrown in the air and top hats fly off

as buckled shoes scatter ’bout with fear.

Driven into a cover of ferns

lashin’ whips crack in the night air

As gauntlets reach down ‘neath each tremblin’ fern

seizin’ the napes a-cowerin’ there.

In chains torches lead them down a cave

hidden ‘neath Blarney Castle deep,

Cries fade as gauntlets roll a stone to seal

forever in its hind they will sleep.

By flickerin’ flames a curse is hewn

‘neath a clover with leaves of four,

“Whosoever removes this sacred stone

the hands of woe will knock at his door.”

A year today, both maiden and prince

facing the Bluestone of Blarney,

In eloquent voices for all to hear

exchanged their vows in matrimony…

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