by Nick Gisburne
Are you the spirit, good or bad, or both,
The Púca, the enigma, that we seek?
We took a vow, a pain-protected oath,
A bond of blood and sweat, to see you. Speak.
You’re nothing like the legend, not at all.
The stories, strange, sensational, all true,
Are certain no absurdity so small
Could ever be the Púca. Is it you?
A dismal, disappointing little man.
How tragic that we came so far to find
A creature clearly bigger, better than
This pitiful example of your kind.
“You ridicule the Púca? I am he.
I wonder, could I kill you? Shall we see?”
