A wild tale of mischief, magic, and revenge—told through raw Irish rhythm and leprechaun fire.
"The Trick’s on You" pulls you into a cursed deal gone wrong… and the haunting price of greed.
Listen to more Leprechaun Music Here ➡️@TnIMusicProductions
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Description About the Song
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A Mischievous Leprechaun. A Dangerous Deal. A Cursed Song You’ll Never Forget.
Step into a mythical world where Irish folklore meets raw storytelling and fierce emotion. “The Trick’s on You” is a powerful leprechaun-themed folk anthem that blends dark humor, magical realism, and a twist of Celtic chaos. If you love gritty narratives, Irish mythology, and unforgettable hooks—this song was made for you.
🎧 Captivating lyrics. Legendary characters. A fate sealed in gold and trickery.
Hit play, and see why this story is grabbing attention across the globe.
🔥 If you love folklore, Irish music, and powerful storytelling, this song is for you! 🔥
Don’t forget to LIKE, COMMENT, and SUBSCRIBE for more epic tales and legendary music! 🎶✨
🔔 Turn on notifications so you never miss a new song! Let me know in the comments—would YOU take the gold, or run the other way? 💰👀
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🎵Lyrics 🎵
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Clang of boots on cobblestone,
Moon’s grinnin’ wide o’er me home,
Smoke from a pipe twistin’ tales in the air,
Somethin’ wicked brewin' — best beware.
Met 'im at the pub, pint in his claw,
Glimmer in his eye, red beard raw.
Said, "Trade yer silver for a charm o' luck!"
I laughed, gave a nod — aye, I was struck.
Next mornin’, chickens crowed backwards, cross-eyed cow,
Fields went bald — no grass now.
I should’ve known with that wink so sly,
Where mischief blooms, no truths lie.
“Ay yeh gobshyte! Gimmie back me brew!
Ye swapped gold fer grass an' turned skies blue!
T'was me plan, ya daft eejit, not yers to do —
C’mere now lad — the trick’s on you!”
Followed the scent o’ peat and lies,
Through moors that sang, to hills that cried.
Every tree pointed deeper in,
Where time folds up, and tales begin.
He danced on clovers, twisted grin,
Tossin’ bones in a circle — beckonin’ sin.
“Yer luck’s run out,” I said through grit,
But his laugh? A blade that bit.
“Ay yeh gobshyte! Gimmie back me brew!
Ye swapped gold fer grass an' turned skies blue!
T'was me plan, ya daft eejit, not yers to do —
C’mere now lad — the trick’s on you!”
Face to face in a ring o’ fire,
Fae eyes glowin’, breathin’ ire.
He offered me three truths or a lie,
I said, “I’ve none, and I won’t comply.”
Grabbed his pipe, broke it in two,
And the world went red, then vanished from view.
“Ah, tabhair dom mo chraiceann, mo chroí, mo mbréag!
Tá tú i bhfiacha, i bhfiacha go brách!
Is mise an cleasaí, tú an amadán —
Agus anois, tá do m’anam i m’láimh, mar gheall ar do dán!”
“Ay yeh gobshyte! Gimmie back me brew!
Ye swapped gold fer grass an' turned skies blue!
T'was me plan, ya daft eejit, not yers to do —
C’mere now lad — the trick’s on you!”
Now I sit on the stone with a pipe o’ me own,
Leprechaun’s curse carvin’ deep in bone.
If ye hear laughin’ under the dew,
Don’t follow the gold — the trick’s on you.
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