The day had happened to be quite sunny.
Then it began to rain and I found it less than funny.
It was at the bus stop I sat.
I had no umbrella, just a simple hat.
For hours and hours I had to wait.
The night came and it was getting fairly late.
I grumbled and shivered, soaked to the bone!
'Twas then I suddenly felt as if I weren't alone.
An old man had come to be next to me.
Where he came from I could not see.

He asked of me a most peculiar thing.
He wanted a story, which I found most baffling!
I thought I might oblige him any who.
There was nothing else I could think to do.
I related a tale I heard as a young lad.
It was told to me by my grandad.

The story of the Pooka, a creature my grandad claimed to have met.
It came out after the rain when the sun had finally set.
By tradition he said it took the shape of a dark horse with luminous gold eyes.
However, of a rabbit, dog, goat, or even old man it could also take the guise.
You would not believe the old coot!
He actually tried to ride the brute!
Well it certainly gave him the ride of his life.
It was more wild and rowdy than his ex-wife!
When the mongrel finally let him off it vanished into the night without a trace.
So many times he went back looking for the pooka at that place.
I was told never to let one escape my gaze, or I would certainly be left with a surprise.
Afterall, everyone knows pookas are not at all fond of goodbyes.

I went on and on about this mischievous spirit, and eventually I lost track of time.
Finally, though, my bus came; it was so late it should be a crime!
As I looked beside me to wish the old man farewell I began to wonder.
He was gone without a trace and I felt as if I had made the greatest blunder.