The Luck of the Irish Page #2

We want to, uh, ask you something.

It's about this waterfall and the old man

Mr. Fitzgerald had words with.

There's no waterfall

on the Gentle Burn...

and it was no mortal man

himself had words with.

Mm-hmm.

Who was it then?

- Oh, I mind well who it was.

- Oh, well, who?

Don't keep it to yourself, man.

It was him.

- The leprechaun of the Gentle Burn. None other.

- Oh, come now.

You don't believe

in those old superstitions.

I believe what me father knew

and his father before him.

It was a great

opportunity you had...

and the saints forgive you

for not taking advantage of it.

110 years of age you say.

What should I have done?

Seized him and made him

give you the pot of gold. What else?

Tsk, tsk, tsk.

I wish I had thought of that.

Has anyone else ever

done that around here?

Mrs. Daly's own father, Mr. William,

and lived to curse the day.

- Why should he curse the day?

- He forgot to spit on the gold.

- A handful of pebbles was

all he had for his trouble...

and bad luck

for the rest of his life.

That's the rule, is it?

You have to spit on the gold?

Any little babby could tell you that.

You'd better be careful

who you talk to, Fitz.

Oh, he'd best at that,

when you hear the end of it.

I was here one night.

Miss Norah was away at school.

I was alone with Mr. William,

and he here with the drink raging in him.

Well, he started to curse every leprechaun

that ever cobbled a shoe...

and he took the bottle,

and he threw it into the fireplace.

And he stood up,

swaying on his two feet.

"Taedy," he says...

"I'll have it out with them devils

if it's the last thing I do. "

And with that,

out through the door...

before I could

raise a hand to stop him.

By your leave, gentlemen.

Well, come on. Come on, man.

What's the rest of it?

Well, uh-Well, I stood

at the door, calling.

And then- then...

I heard the banshee.

It was the first time

I heard it, but...

I knew it was all over,

and so it was.

The next morning,

they found him by the Gentle Burn...

and he struck dead altogether,

the way that he ne-

The way that he never moved again.

Well, gentlemen, as I was saying...

drink is the curse

of the human race.

How are you, Norah?

Well, I think it's past me bedtime,

gentlemen, so I'll say good night, kids.

One and all.

- Taedy.

- I'm ready for you, whoever you are! Come on out!

- Mr. Fitzgerald.

- Oh, Mr. Fitz.

- You gave me a start, sir.

- What are you doing with that bottle of whiskey?

Shh!

Themselves have sharp ears...

and they might have heard us

taking their names.

You know, it's a good thing

to leave a little something on the doorstep.

Oh.

But I always thought

the traditional thing for leprechauns...

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