Sunrays danced on the water in Fergus bay,
as the Shannon flowed into the Atlantic Ocean,
My trek began as I rode north, then east today
through Feakle, then Scarfiff, pedaling in slow motion,
but, I soon waved farewell to County Clare,
looking back from up high, standing firm, I stare.
Across the Slieve Aughty mountains, I jog
where forested lands never meet a stranger,
but warning signs foretell: beware of the bog.
I rest reposed, like a dog in the manger,
near a Cloister, in the small village of Clonfert
before saying goodbye, not quite a convert.
Quick as a lark skipping most of RosCommon
I continue my trek and reaffirm my quest.
At a leisurely pace, perhaps like King Solomon,
by way of ShannonBridge, I restore my zest.
Across hills and dales along sheep-dog trails
deep in midlands of county Offaly, heard of in tales.
As luck would have it, in such a story as this one, or two
a Shepherd I met said, “ you’ll find your quest in Tullamore.”
He continued. “At the pub ask the barkeep for Tullamore Dew.”
So, I strode to the pub and had a pint, and said, “draw more!”.
Being bold, I then had a Dew, then, had another glass of brew.
Suddenly, I saw the Leprechaun! With brass buckles on his shoes.
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