You are welcome to print this poem about the Shillelagh history.
Oh no! It’s not a walking stick,
It’s carried neath one’s arm,
For though it was a weapon,
It kept you free from harm.
For long ago invaders came,
To Ireland’s pleasant shore,
Those Danes were fearsome fighting men,
With sword and shield and more.
To kill or plunder was their aim,
And pretty girls to snatch,
But when they reached Shillelagh,
They found they’d met their match!
The peaceful farmers had no swords,
Their homesteads to defend,
But they knew that on the Blackthorn,
Their lives they could depend.
They cut stout sticks,
Then joined the fight,
And quickly put the Danes to flight,
Such exploits brought Shillelagh fame,
And to the stick they gave its name.
