The BIG Hill!

One of my very best friends is a young red-headed boy named Steven. We are not related in any way yet he calls me Uncle Rege. He moved into a newly built home where a large hilly mound of rocks and mud had been left in his back yard. When I'd visit, we'd throw rocks to "knock down" the hill. His Grandma and Grandpa lived a few miles away. For fun, I wrote him this poem.

The Big Hill

A boy named Steve had a hill in his yard

That he didn't want there any more.
Each day after school he tossed rocks very hard

Till his pitching arm got very sore.

A great wind swirled about and when Steve turned around

A leprechaun surprised him and said:
"If you think you can move that huge earthen mound

There's stones and shamrocks in you head."

"Now take my advice, I've a much better plan, Bub,

Instead of just chipping away at that muck;"
"There's an old Irish secret for moving that mud

'Cause with red hair you'll sure have good luck."

"Tell Granny and Gramps they'll find gold under there, Lad,"

Steve trusted this green man, well kind-a.
Now the hill is all gone yet Steve feels so sad

'Cause his grandparents dug clear thru to China.