Leprechaun Gold
America, especially those of us of Irish descent, celebrated St. Patrick’s Day Tuesday March 17th. It is a global cultural and religious holiday honoring the patron saint of Ireland, St. Patrick. It has evolved into a celebration of Irish heritage, featuring parades, wearing green, Irish music, and dancing. I am a cowboy poet, and I penned this poem to honor the occasion. The beginning of cowboy poetry is thought to have originated from the stories and songs of Scottish and Irish shepherds. These were put into rhyme to help them to be remembered easier. This talent came to America through immigration and many of these immigrants became veterans of the Civil War, known in the South as “The War of Northern Aggression.” At the end of this war time, many of these immigrants moved west and made their living as cowboys on western ranches. Many lonely hours were whiled away by making up stories and songs that told about their daily adventures, as well as their memories of family, sweethearts, and the life left behind in their home countries. This way of life was at its peak in the late 1800s and early 1900s and remains alive in the hearts and minds of all of us that continue to revel in the freedoms offered by the wideopen spaces and the land of “big sky.” These cowboys were away from home and family, so many would use humor in their stories and poems to brighten their day. I say all of that to say this…I have been told that I am as Irish as Paddy’s pig! That I have all the characteristics (Of the Irish, not the pig.) since I was known to kiss the “Blarney Stone.”
Yes, I could be a bit windy, watched clouds and daydreamed, I was red headed enough to fight at the drop of a hat, recognized Leprechauns and the occasional devil, and John Barleycorn was never nice to me! My Ol’ Daddy always said, “Lad, ye best put yore mind back in gear, afore my boot meets yore rear!” Yeah, I guess if you are lucky enough to be Irish, you are lucky enough!
Leprechaun Gold
This ol’ cowboy was an Irishman, A fixture of this sod, Claimed to be of the O’Connor Clan, Proud of this land he trod.
He had bottom and plenty of stay, Back east, he was called “mick,” But here in the West, he made his play, An’ here he plans to stick!
He quickly learned the lay of the land, He had that Irish charm, He was loyal and rode for the brand, Tho quick to raise alarm.
‘Cuz he was Irish through an’ through, Would stand up for a friend, A mighty salty hand an’ tough too, Would stay right to the end.
St. Paddy’s Day, all Irishmen quote, “When all the earth ‘twas green, A wee dab o’ whisky to ‘cut his troat’, An’ ne’er the devil seen!”
Saint Patrick’s Day brought thoughts of Ireland, A bonny land, that ol’ sod, Thoughts of leprechaun pranks throughout the land, An’ he stopped to thank his God.
For without His Grace, there he would be, On this good St. Patrick’s Day, In the King’s jail an’ not at all free, Homage he would not pay.
So across the ocean he must go, To a land, wild an’ free, Where man an’ his family could grow, To no one bend a knee. America an’ then on to the west, A cowboy’s life for him, ‘Twas a hard life, put him to the test, Western life could be grim.
An’ aye, he faced up to his trials with grit, Sometimes it took a
while, He never faltered an’ never quit, In good ol’ Irish style. But never lost his love for that ol’ sod, Bonny Ireland, oh so sweet, An’ also pledged his love to his God, For makin’ his life complete. An’ through the years he forged his life, An’ proved to be a man, He raised a family with his good wife, Out there… where the west began!
© Ol’ Jim Cathey God Bless the Irish, May the Lord keep you in His Hand and never close His Fist too tight! Join us at First Baptist Marlin and experience a taste of old Ireland through God’s love! God bless each one of you and God Bless America!