Irish Curses
May his pipe never smoke, may his teapot be broke,
And to add to the joke, may his kettle never boil.
May he keep to the bed till the hour that he's dead;
May he always be fed on hogwash and boiled oil.
May he swell with the gout, may his grinders fall out;
May he roll, howl, and shout with the horrid toothache.
May the temples wear horns, and the toes many corns,
Of the monster that murdered Neil Flaherty's drake.
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