St Patrick, when a teenage boy, 

     Was captured by a man,
And, smuggling him to Ireland,

      Was a big part of his plan. 

He was made to work upon a farm,

     And Patrick cared for sheep.
He said his prayers to God each night

     But one night in his sleep . . . 

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God’s voice told him to run away

     As quickly as he could,
And Patrick, taking heed of God,

      Assured him that he would.

His journey was a frightening one,

     But he came home once more,
And, in his heart, and with much prayer,

      His future became sure.

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He studied and became a priest –

    A truly good priest too.
Each day, of course, he prayed to God,

    Who told him what to do.

To Ireland he returned again

     And the Christian faith he taught.
One day he found a clover leaf

      And this is what he thought:

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The clover plant has three small leaves

     Which grow upon one stem:
The Trinity’s like this as well,

     Made up of three, like them.

The Father, Son and Holy Ghost

     Are three parts which make one,
But He, who came to live on earth,

     Was Jesus, God’s own son.

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St Patrick preached God’s holy word

     For over sixty years.
For certain, when he left our world,

     In Ireland, they shed tears.

This man, a most beloved Saint,

     Has left his mark for sure,
And, if we all leave marks of good,

     Well, who could strive for more?

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Copyright on all my poems

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Patrick was born around 385 in Scotland, probably Kilpatrick. His parents were Calpurnius and Conchessa, who were Romans living in Britian in charge of the colonies

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THE REAL STORY OF ST PATRICK TOPS THE MYTHS - Oh read this.  The true story tops any myths you may have heard.  Josie 

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