The Legend of McFarren’s Well
I’ll spin ye, laddie, a yarn me’heard when I was ‘bout yer size,
‘Bout wee Barret Barney’s bad luck one day. Listen tha’ ye may be wise.
The hills were green the sun come up that February day.
The bees sang and the birds they hummed o’er the clover and hay.
But Barret’s mum –bless ‘er soul- smelled danger in the air,
She warned ‘im twice not to leave, for bad luck lurked out there.
But the day were bright and sweet to him so he gave his mum the slip,
“I’ll be back soon -I promise Mum- the well’s a right-quick trip.”
So out the door he yippy-skipped and down to McFarren’s Well,
With soft ground beneath his feet he felt fiercely swell.
He drew the bucket, don’t ye know, and then he ‘eard the voice,
“You should not ‘ave come ‘ere, lad. Tha’ weren’t the brigh’est choice.
For, ye see, this is the day tha’ I may trade my post,
As the guardian keeper here- as McFarren’s Well’s Ghost.
I’m sorry, lad, to do this now, but ye know what they say,
‘It’s bad luck to be ou’ walkin’ in the open on Leap Day’.”
Barret Barney was ne’er seen ‘round those parts no more,
Though Barret’s mum searched and searched until ‘er back were sore.
And still it’s said that to this day ye can ‘ear the snore,
Of some ghostly napping down in McFarren’s core.
So lend me yer ears and ‘earts this day, and watch yer step an’ pray.
That yer luck is better than ‘is on this ‘ere Leap Year’s Day.