30. The Mighty Builders!

J.M.J.

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I, Finney, say, “Hello! Hello!”

So glad you’re here, by now you know!

And if you don’t, then let me say,

I am so glad you’re here today!

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I have to tell you what I’ve seen,

As I walk on our fields of green!

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These grains of earth just piled high

As if they’re reaching for the sky!

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For each and every little hill

Has been built with such mighty skill.

The grains of earth each in its place,

Seemed put so neatly in its space!

I saw them, too, as I looked down,

The little ants…some black, some brown!

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They each find their own ant-hill hole,

And building seems to be their goal.

A grain of earth each carries out.

It’s plain, their work, they’re all about!

Their homes are built with earnest care.

Their hills…amazin’…everywhere!

There’s no one place where they belong;

Could be a meadow with bird’s song…

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Could be in dirt or grassy ground…

Or in some funny spots all ’round!

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You must look close to see them there…

They really could be anywhere!

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They’re on the ground and on a tree!

All needs be done is look and see!

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Sometimes they’re dusty…sometimes clean.

But no matter, fun to be seen!

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They work so hard, each of the ants.

‘Tis strange, though, no green shirt or pants!

And no green cap or pot o’ gold…

Like’s always been from times of old!

For ants it must be different, though.

Their work, from God, they surely know!

I wonder if they know St. Pat,

Or the Fianna*, and all that?

I know they’ve so much work to do.

How do they have time for play, too?

I can’t see any balls to play,

Or hamper’s filled for summer’s day,

With food for picnickin’s fun way!

Hmmm…that sounds so good for today!

I think I’m glad I’m not an ant.

A Leprechaun just simply can’t

Forget about the pot o’ gold

Whose tale’s been told from times of old!

This is our work, giv’n us by God,

Our work here on grand Irish sod!

Thank goodness, too, for these poor ants.

Who do not have green shirt or pants,

They work and work…too hard for me!

I simply need to play, you see!

Watchin’ these ants has worn me out…

I’ve been a really grand ant-scout.

But, oh my goodness, ants can walk

To here and there without much talk!

Well, that just wouldn’t be for me!

I am so glad I’m just Finney!

I’m happy you read this today!

                                     God bless you is what I do say!  (See Footnote #30)

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29. Éire #1!

J.M.J.

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I, Finney, say, “Hello!  Hello!”

I have something so fun to show

To you which means so much to me.

Bet you’re thinking, “What could this be?”

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Where I come from is by the sea.

Its salty sea air’s so lovely!

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The green’s like none you’ve ever seen!

How I do love those fields of green!

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‘Tis Ireland I am speaking of.

Seems like a place in Heav’n above!

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The flowers are so bright and fair…

So beautiful, beyond compare!

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The animals who share the land

Were chosen special by God’s hand

To live in Ireland…help to care,

For Irish folk who do live there!

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Ireland’s name is also Éire,

And to say this…sounds like air-uh!

Its ancient times are like it’s now,

Though it is hard to explain how…

The ancient homes are not all gone.

“Tis true, says I, a Leprechaun!

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Those ancient homes still tell the tale.

They, in their witness, do not fail!

The mists of time have been so kind.

They’ve left some ancient sense behind!

It’s all around on Irish sod.

The then and now…still fresh from God!

This history’s not told with ease;

So much to tell of green and breeze!

Some of you hoped that I would tell

Of secrets that I know so well.

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Secret work and secret doors

Had their beginnings in our lores.

So, I must go far back in time,

If I’m to tell of what I rhyme!

The ancient tales and history…

They tell us of a great story!

And though its telling is so fun,

As I said…not easily done!

So, we’ll talk only of a part,

And this will give us a good start.

Beginning is the sure first step.

So, here we go, with hope and pep!

Long, long ago…we have been told

That Irish folks, in times of old…

They settled and began to be

So happy in this Land, you see.

The first place we will speak about…

So mystical, there is no doubt.

I’m speaking of the sacred hill…

‘Tis Tara I mean and I will

Be first to say this sacred place

Knows many a Leprechaun’s face!

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‘Tis work we’ve had and that we still

Must do well on this sacred hill.

Its grassy mounds disguise what’s there…

Great secrets underneath somewhere.

Just where and what must not be known.

Not yet because it can’t be shown.

Until the time that’s set by God,

For Tara’s secrets in this sod.

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Me Dad is calling to me now.

He says he needs to tell me how

To tell you things of what we know

Without letting some secrets show.

Sean Finnegan!
Sean Finnegan!

Our sacred trust from times of old,

Has something real to do with gold.

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The secret doors do show the way

To places many may not stay!

But Leprechauns protect so well

These places that we may not tell

Too much about just where they lead,

No matter how much some may plead!

But you, my Friend, I tell to you…

Someday I know you’ll know things, too!

What fun for us…secrets to share!

That’s always fun for those who care

To be true Friends, and grow in trust.

To do good things we know we must!

I’m so tired now…time to nap!

I’ll jump in bed…keep on my cap!

I am so glad we talked today.

                                     God bless you is what I do say!  (See Footnote #29)

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