Twas the leprechaun village of Stypylls
where chanters of fortune were schooled
Near a river of hearkening ripples
and echoes of voices were pooled
They dared not let their spells run unruly
as they practiced their craft by the stream
So the oaths were disposed of most duly
Washed away in the frigid extreme
But once every while an occurrence
where a spell went off wildly astray
was if ricochet gave it endurance
or twas picked up by a zephyr at play
Once free they knew not where it landed
thus impossible for them to retrieve
Whether good or bad fortune commanded
the poor host had no choice but receive
It is said that a pauper once sleeping
was struck by an errant intone
From his field the next day he was reaping
gold nuggets where thistles had grown
Consequence then was afforded
to the stunned and unfortunate elf
whose charmed incantation was thwarted
bringing misfortune back on himself
He was cast from the Circle of Utters
to work in the sun and the soil
A collector of rock for stonecutters
Hands gone from magic to toil
Be advised its not wise to be seeking
the path of a misguided spell
For it may not be of gold you are speaking
It could be thorn briars as well.
Errant Oaths