Hamlet Cigar & A Shocking Discovery

There was a time when happiness was a cigar called Hamlet, until TV tobacco advertising was banned. How times have changed! In my case, I did enjoy a cigar every once in a while and yes, it was a Hamlet. Nowadays, other things do the trick very nicely.
I could write a book about the little things in my garden that help the happiness bug, and if I were to pick just one it would be my daily five-minute pre-breakfast garden inspection. I’ve written about it just this week.

“Fairy’s Live Here”

So what caught my eye today? I made a shocking discovery! The fairy door has moved AGAIN. It had been behind the Alchemilla for the last few weeks, but the little devils relocated overnight. Worryingly, they are nearer the house behind a large stone. I dare not get too close, and they will wreak havoc if I tread on their invisible meandering pathways. My boiled egg will be rotten, my bike punctured or the bindweed will return.

Unrelated to the Irish wee folk, I came upon this from Marcel Proust:

Let us be grateful to the people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.

I have enough people in my life who make me happy, and I am grateful every day.

Finally, I return to the fairies and include here one of my brother’s favourite school poems by William Allingham. I have omitted the two verses not traditionally known as they are a bit offside.

Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren’t go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl’s feather!

Down along the rocky shore
Some make their home,
They live on crispy pancakes
Of yellow tide-foam;
Some in the reeds
Of the black mountain-lake,
With frogs for their watchdogs,
All night awake.

By the craggy hillside,
Through the mosses bare,
They have planted thorn trees
For my pleasure, here and there.
Is any man so daring
As dig them up in spite,
He shall find their sharpest thorns
In his bed at night.

Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren’t go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl’s feather.

Pádraig,

Thursday, 2nd July 2020.

This Post Has 0 Comments

  1. Paddy Tobin

    I always strove to be upmarket and would only ever puff on a King Edward! As for the fairies – I have always felt they were better left up the airy mountain! Enjoy the day!

    1. Pádraig

      Maith thú, a chara! That’s posh…

  2. Michele Burke

    Love it, and the poem 🥰

    1. Pádraig

      They stole little Bridget
      For seven years long;
      When she came down again
      Her friends were all gone.
      They took her lightly back,
      Between the night and morrow,
      They thought that she was fast asleep,
      But she was dead with sorrow.
      They have kept her ever since
      Deep within the lake,
      On a bed of fig-leaves,
      Watching till she wake.

    1. Pádraig

      Thank you so much, a chara! Hope all is well with you over there. (as well as things can be considering the circumstances).

    1. Pádraig

      Good to have our school memories thrust into our daily lives. This is definitely a favourite of many.

Leave a reply? Yes please!