Twas Saturday night at the local pub,
But not a smile could be seen on the lads.
A visitor came but there was a small rub,
That had the whole place feeling so sad.

A Clurichaun name of Patrick McGee,
Was the guest who had caused this depression.
He had a strange quirk of magic you see,
That caused all these frowning expressions.

Each time a glass was filled up at the bar,
All the booze vanished in just a twinkling.
Any man consuming that much by far,
Would have died from what Patrick was drinking.

Then a fine wit name of Willie O'Darr,
Found a way all this madness to stop.
"Draw one for McGee!" he called to the bar,
And the imp disappeared with a pop.