Life, 1916-03-16 · page 13 of 44
Life — March 16, 1916 — page 13: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a poem by Arthur Guiterman about Irish folklore creatures, not a political cartoon. The text celebrates three mythological figures: the Leprechaun (a small man from County Clare who hides gold), the Clúricaune (a similar creature wearing fancy clothes who knows where four-leaf shamrocks grow), and references St. Patrick's kettledrum that "drove the snakes below." The poem frames these fairies as offering wealth and love to those who catch them, using folkloric promises as metaphor. The ornate decorative border features Celtic-inspired designs with figures and shamrocks, appropriate to the Irish fairy theme. This appears to be weekend entertainment content rather than satire—a whimsical celebration of Irish cultural mythology for American readers.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Has ld it ipt to it is body sress, vught ely a ellent Of Certain Irish Fairies HE Leprechaun,—the omadhaun !—that lives in County Clare, Is one foot wide and three foot high without an inch to spare. He winks the sea blue cye of him, like other saucy rogues, And underneath the blackthorn bush he sits to clout his brogues. Then, if you catch the Leprechaun and never loose your hold, He's bound to show you where he’s hid a pot of yellow gold, And give you, too, a fairy purse with tassels down the end, That's never bare, but always full, no matter what you spend. ’Tis I would catch the Leprechaun ;—and then what would I do? I'd take the yellow gold, machree, and give it all to you! The Cluricawne of Monaghan is mighty seldom seen; He wears a crimson swallow-tail, a vest of apple green And shiny shoes with buckles, too, and silver ones at that, And on his curly head, askew he claps a steeple-hat. 'Tis I would catch the Cluricawne ;—and why? Because he knows The only spot in Erin where the four-leafed shamrock grows,— The shamrock that the fairies tend, that does not grow from seed; ‘Twill bring you health and wealth and love—though ‘tis not love you need,— And ribbons, laces, brooches, rings, or anything you name. So when I’ve caught the Cluricawne, ‘tis you shall have the same. The Leprechaun and Cluricawne are clever little men, Yet will I catch them, by and by; but need we wait till then? My breast is warm to nestle you, my arms are strong to hold, Our youth is richer spending-stuff than any elfin gold, My heart it is a fairy purse of wealth without an end, That's brimming full of love for you, no matter what you spend. “And what's the shamrock, then?” say you. What else, for me, indeed, But you!—since if I have yourself, there's nothing more I'll need. And by St. Patrick’s kettledrum that drove the snakes below, I'll catch you, like the Leprechaun, but never let you go! Arthur Guiterman, comicbooks.com