William Allingham

The Leprechaun; or Fairy Shoemaker

Little Cowboy, what have you heard,

Rath's green mound

A rath is an Irish hill fort. Allingham anchors the poem in Irish landscape and folklore—this isn't generic fairy lore but specifically Irish tradition.

Up on the lonely rath's green mound?
Only the plaintive yellow bird<ref>"Yellow bird", the yellow-bunting, or yorlin.</ref>
Sighing in sultry fields around,
Chary, chary, chary, chee-ee!--
Only the grasshopper and the bee?--
"Tip-tap, rip-rap,
Tick-a-tack-too!

Onomatopoeia pattern

The repeated 'Tip-tap, rip-rap, / Tick-a-tack-too' mimics actual shoemaking sounds. Allingham uses rhythm to make the leprechaun's work audible—you hear the hammer strikes.

Scarlet leather, sewn together,
This will make a shoe.
Left, right, pull it tight;
Summer days are warm;
Underground in winter,
Laughing at the storm!
Lay your ear close to the hill.
Do you not catch the tiny clamour,
Busy click of an elfin hammer,
Voice of the Lepracaun singing shrill
As he merrily plies his trade?

Span and a quarter

A span is the width of an outstretched hand (roughly 9 inches). This precise measurement—10-11 inches tall—makes the leprechaun oddly concrete rather than vaguely magical.

He's a span
And a quarter in height.

Span and a quarter

A span is the width of an outstretched hand (roughly 9 inches). This precise measurement—10-11 inches tall—makes the leprechaun oddly concrete rather than vaguely magical.

Get him in sight, hold him tight,
And you're a made
Man!
You watch your cattle the summer day,
Sup on potatoes, sleep in the hay;
How would you like to roll in your carriage.
Look for a duchess's daughter in marriage?
Seize the Shoemaker--then you may!
"Big boots a-hunting,
Sandals in the hall,
White for a wedding-feast,
Pink for a ball.
This way, that way,
So we make a shoe;
Getting rich every stitch,
Tick-tack-too!"

Nine-and-ninety treasure-crocks

The specific number (99, not 100) suggests incompleteness or obsession—the leprechaun is still searching for one more. It's a detail from Irish folklore tradition.

Nine-and-ninety treasure-crocks
This keen miser-fairy hath,
Hid in mountains, woods, and rocks,
Ruin and round-tow'r, cave and rath,
And where the cormorants build;
From times of old
Guarded by him;
Each of them fill'd
Full to the brim
With gold!
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,

Spectacles on pointed nose

The leprechaun wears reading glasses while doing detailed work. This detail humanizes him—he's a craftsman with practical needs, not a purely magical being.

Silver buckles to his hose,
Leather apron-shot in his lap--
"Rip-rap, tip-tap,
Tick-tack-too!
(A grasshopper 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

The narrator says 'Servant, Sir' (a polite greeting). The leprechaun's 'Humph!' is dismissive—he doesn't accept the social courtesy. He's rude, not charming.

"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,-

Snuff-box trick

The leprechaun offers snuff (powdered tobacco) as a gesture of truce, then uses it as escape—a con disguised as courtesy. The 'whimsical grace' masks the betrayal.

Snuff-box trick

The leprechaun offers snuff (powdered tobacco) as a gesture of truce, then uses it as escape—a con disguised as courtesy. The 'whimsical grace' masks the betrayal.

Pouf! he flung the dust in my face,
And, while I sneezed,
Was gone!

Was gone

The poem ends mid-action, mid-sneeze. There's no resolution or moral—the leprechaun simply escapes. The narrator's attempt to 'seize' fortune fails completely.

Source

Reading Notes

How Allingham Grounds Fantasy in Irish Specifics

Allingham doesn't write generic fairy tales. He embeds this leprechaun story in Irish geography (raths, round towers, cormorants) and folklore tradition (99 treasure crocks, the specific height measurements). [CONTEXT: Allingham was Irish, writing in the 1850s-60s when Irish folklore was being collected and standardized.] The poem treats the leprechaun as a real occupational creature—he has tools, work habits, a business model. He makes shoes for fairy nobility, charges payment, and hoards gold methodically. This grounds the magical in the mundane.

Notice how the poem moves from hearsay ('what have you heard') through instruction ('Lay your ear close') to direct testimony ('I caught him at work one day, myself'). By the final section, the narrator claims firsthand experience. This rhetorical shift makes the leprechaun feel documented rather than invented—like folklore being reported, not created.

The Con Artist Ending: Why the Leprechaun Wins

The poem promises wealth: catch the leprechaun, and 'you're a made man.' The narrator actually catches him—'The rogue was mine, beyond a doubt.' But then loses him instantly through the snuff-box trick. The 'whimsical grace' is key: the leprechaun performs politeness (offering the snuff) while executing an escape. He's not cruel or angry; he's a trickster who outsmarts through manners.

Allingham's point isn't that magic is unreal or that greed fails morally. It's that the leprechaun is smarter and faster. The narrator never had a chance. The poem ends not with a lesson but with a con—the leprechaun gets away laughing (implied), and the narrator is left sneezing. This is why Irish folklore makes the leprechaun sympathetic: he's the underdog who always wins through wit, not through superior power.