“Acushla, ’twas near to the day of the fair
And poor Mother Molly’d no bonnet to wear,
Except a frilled cap she had worn day by day,
And year after year in the same humble way.
She went out of doors, and she heaved such a sigh
She blew up a gale in the garden near-by,
It whisked a wee leprechaun out of a tree
He lost his green hat as away he did flee:
It hung on the bush where the gooseberries grew;
Next morn Molly found it all covered with dew.