Sense Sonnet - Tickler

Bit O'Blarney

One day I found a pot of gold.
I was one happy, lucky guy.
Finders keepers - to have and hold,
All mine and not to question why.
I lugged that heavy pot right home,
And counted coins from dusk to dawn,
Till interrupted by a gnome,
Who said he was a leprachaun.
He said he had to take the pot,
To pay back taxes that I owed.
My pleas for mercy went for naught.
He grabbed the gold and hit the road.

Nobody ever ought to mess
With the wee folk at I.R.S.