III.
I caught him at work one day, myself,
In the castle-ditch where foxglove grows,—
A wrinkled, wizen'd, and bearded Elf,
Spectacles stuck on his pointed nose,
Leather apron-shoe in his lap—
"Rip-rap, tip-tap,
Tack-tack-too!
(A green cricket on my cap!
Away the moth flew!)
Buskins for a fairy prince,
Brogues for his son,—
Pay me well, pay me well,
When the job is done!"
The rogue was mine, beyond a doubt.
I stared at him, he stared at me;
"Servant, Sir!" "Humph!" says he,
And pull'd a snuff-box out.
He took a long pinch, look'd better pleased,
The queer little Lepracaun;
Offer'd the box with a whimsical grace,
Pouf! he flung the dust in my face,
And, while I sneezed,
Was gone!
Raths, very ancient forts or entrenched dwelling-places, usually on hills; the remains of these are common in Ireland, and resemble what are called "Rings" in England.
Yellow bird, the yellow bunting, or "yorlin."
