The best holiday of all is finally upon us: St. Patrick’s Day. Sure, and I may be a bit biased, but bein a leprechaun, it’s to be expected.
“Aren’t you a tad tall for a leprechaun?”
I’m from Texas, and as you know, everything is bigger in Texas, includin yer leprechauns. I guess you could say we’re hybrid leprechauns. The politically correct term is Texichaun.
We lived on a ranch in Shamrock, Texas: The Bonsai Ponderosa. There was Pa, Little Joe, Dinky Hoss, Adam Ant, and me (Tom Thumb). We raised miniature mules and small potatoes. I even had a Shetland shillelagh. Life was hard in those days; we grew up quick and we came up short.
“How does a Texichaun differ from a leprechaun?”
For one thing, at the end of our rainbow there’s a pot of chili. And we celebrate the 17th a bit differently: Instead of drinkin green beer, we drink beer ‘til we turn green. As dusk settles, all gather round the campfire and recite the Leprechaun Manifesto.
“How’s that go?”
It starts out, “Wee the people…”
“My blarney alarm just went off. Hey, look at the time. I gotta get on outta here.”
May the trail rise to meet ye.