Your Poetry Dot Com - Old Trail.

One could not call it a road it was just a winding trail that led over the mountains. Legend has it that the trail itself was a relic from the smugglers of old that took salt over the mountains and brought back with them anything that could be sold. The times were hard the only work was on the farms and the Farmers had no money. Men and women worked for their food and a place to sleep. Once a year if all went well and the harvest was good the Farmer gave his workers a few shillings for pocket money. This was the main reason why so many went smuggling it was the only way to help keep families together.

The path is no longer used by smugglers the times are much better now and most men and women work in the factories in the towns. The old trail is still used by wandering Leprechauns that travel from town to town, mending pots and pans or repairing shoes. The Leprechauns know all of the short cuts and what is more important all of the places where shelter could be found. Snowstorms in the mountains had cost many a smuggler his life. The cold high up is terrible even when one is wrapped up well but in the old days not many had warm clothing and the cold was feared the most.

This tale tells of such a Leprechaun that had often wandered over the mountains following the trails. He had walked from East to West and from West to East. His step was sprightly and at a guess I would say he was about fifty years of age. Weather did not seem to bother him at all he had a good weather sense and if he said it would snow then snow it did. One-day bad weather set in and he ran along the trail to the next sheltered spot. This spot was really a small cave it was known to but a few. On reaching the cave the Leprechaun saw that there had been a landslide and the cave was now a huge hole the old entrance had been swept away.

Running in to the cave to get out of the pouring rain the Leprechaun stumbled over what at first seemed to be a large stone. On a closer look the stone turned out to be a large block of solid silver. The Leprechaun could not believe his eyes. Pure silver as far as he could judge he went further into the cave and found that one of the walls was covered in silver not the silver ore that one has to heat before the silver will run out. This was something that no one had ever seen before. Pure silver.

Packing the lump of silver in his rucksack he sat and waited until the rain had stopped and then made his way into the next town. Here he sold the silver to a jeweller and with his pocket full of money he bought provisions and a donkey. Going back to his cave along the old smugglers trail he had the feeling that some one was watching him. He made a couple of detours until he safely reached his cave.

The Leprechaun knew it would not be wise if he made his cave with the silver public. In the old days it would have been no problem but today there were so many offices and so many permits needed that someone else would probably claim the cave. In the town he had bought some dynamite and proceeded to dynamite the entrance and leave the cave without digging more silver out of it. He lit the fuse and ran with his donkey to a safe place and waited to see what would happen. There was a loud bang and then a rumbling and a landslide once again covered the cave.

The leprechaun set his donkey free and lifting his rucksack onto his back he walked back along the trail until he reached the town. All the way along the trail he had the feeling that he was being followed. At first he thought that the jeweller had been following him; such pure silver would be worth a fortune for a jeweller. On reaching the town he went to the jewellers and asked him if he had been following him. The Jeweller told the Leprechaun that he had not been out of the shop since he had bought the silver from him.

The Leprechaun went to an inn where he thought to stay the night. He booked his room and then went to the restaurant and had a meal. After his meal he went into the bar of the inn and ordered himself a pint of beer. It did not take long and a man came and sat next to him at the bar. They got into conversation and the talk was neatly steered by the man into silver and the finding of silver mines. He tried his best to get the Leprechaun drunk so that he would give away the secret of his finding silver. A Leprechaun can never get drunk. Not on beer or wine or even the hard drinks such as whisky, gin or any other alcoholic drink. Leprechauns have stomachs that turn any alcohol into water.

It cost the man ever such a lot of money but the Leprechaun ‘who on the quiet was thoroughly enjoying himself.’ He had never had such a clever talker and he learned a great deal about silver that he did not previously know. Late that evening the Leprechaun excused himself and went up to his room to have a good sleep. He left the man sitting at the bar and as he got into bed he had a good laugh over the man’s foolishness.

Very early the next morning he paid his bill for his room and with the rucksack on his back he wandered back over the smugglers trail and with every step he got further and further away from the man that had tried to get the secret out of him. Only three or four people know about the Leprechauns silver mine. Me of course and Her Majesty, The Fairy Queen Feeana, the Leprechaun and the silly man that tried to get the secret out of the Leprechaun.

This poem is Copyright ยฉ bernard2