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Oh, that poor leprechaun
Roams through the clover,
Lookin' for his po' o' gold
In a broken down rover.

He has searched everywhere
But, he can't seem to find it,
He rips, what hair he has left, out of his head
Even searched through the cold snows, but ended up being frostbit.

He's even searched his shoes
Looked through the holes in his socks,
Asked school children, if they've seen it
Then he had come down with a bad case of chicken pox.

He went to the Pixies house
That was up on the hill,
Asked the ogre under the bridge
Who felt rather ill.

He searched through the forest
And asked the Unicorns roaming there,
Went back home, empty-handed
And a head, with one hair.

He tore his house apart
Looking for his po' o' gold,
But, I seem to have it hidden
In my shed, in a freezer that's nice and cold.

Copyright Cynthia Jones
Mar.17/2006