A limerick to st. patties day.

[poem] A couple of years ago on Saint Patrick’s Day, two of my children decided to set a trap for a leprechaun using fools gold and a jar. They set the trap quietly in some unknown location and waited for the unsuspecting leprechaun. When they checked the jar some time later, they found the fools gold intact and no leprechaun to be seen, but there was a tiny note written in green ink left behind for the unsuccessful captors. Here, as best as I can remember, was the poem written to my children:

I took the words from a scrabble game I played and used every word from the game in a fiction story. Here’s what I came up with…

TIME TO RHYME! St. Patrick’s Day Style!

Ah, the lore of the leprechaun, and a wee story with it!

A young boy discovers a real, live leprechaun in his mother’s flower garden.

Limerick.

You have found a Leprechauns pot-o-gold,
now he wants it back.
What would you do?

Considering that "The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas" is a very depressing book, this is an ending that will have the opposite effect.

Another poem about creating pictures with the written word.