VERSES WITH CURSES
Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
May the devil write your obituary in weasel’s piss. –old Irish curse
Hold on — how did that get there? Either the devil made me do it, or me computer is up to no good (which wouldn’t be the first time). To be sure, me fine lads and lassies, this post is about curses in verses, but a curse alone does not a poem make. As for that derelict curse above, there are no weasels in Ireland unless you count the sloat (which is often mistaken for a weasel) or the lowly human (which often acts like a weasel, but technically is not).
Be that as it may, I haven’t got all (St. Patrick’s) day, so let’s get on with it. Here is a cultivated selection of VERSES WITH CURSES which, not least among its Hibernian virtues, could serve to show America’s petulant President how to insult his inferiors with a bit more savoir fairy (class, in plain English) than is typical in his limited vocabulary:
THE CURSE by John Millington Synge
Lord, confound this surly sister,
Blight her brow with blotch and blister,
Cramp her larynx, lung, and liver,
In her guts a galling give her.
Let her live to earn her dinners
In Mountjoy with seedy sinners:
Lord, this judgment quickly bring,
And I’m your servant, J. M. Synge.
from THE CURSE OF DONERAILE by Patrick O’Kelly
Alas! how dismal is my tale,
I lost my watch in Doneraile.
My Dublin watch, my chain and seal,
Pilfered at once in Doneraile.
May Fire and Brimstone never fail,
To fall in showers on Doneraile.
May all the leading fiends assail
The thieving town of Doneraile,
As lightnings flash across the vale,
So down to Hell with Doneraile.
The fate of Pompey at Pharsale,
Be that the curse of Doneraile.
May beef, or mutton, lamb or veal
Be never found in Doneraile,
But garlic soup and scurvy kale
Be still the food of Doneraile.
And forward as the creeping snail,
Th’ industry be, of Doneraile.
May ev’ry churn and milking pail
Fall dry to staves in Doneraile.
May cold and hunger still congeal
The stagnant blood of Doneraile.
May ev’ry hour new woes reveal
That Hell reserves for Doneraile.
May ev’ry chosen ill prevail
O’er all the imps of Doneraile.
May not one prayer or wish avail
To sooth the woes of Doneraile.
May the Inquisition straight impale
The rapparees of Doneraile.
May curse of Sodom now prevail
And sink to ashes Doneraile.
May Charon’s Boat triumphant sail
Completely manned from Doneraile.
Oh! may my couplets never fail
To find new curse for Doneraile.
And may grim Pluto’s inner jail
Forever groan with Doneraile.
RIGHTEOUS ANGER by James Stephens
The lanky hank of a she over there
Nearly killed me for asking the loan of a glass of beer:
May the devil grip the whey-faced slut by the hair,
And beat bad manners out of her skin for a year.
That parboiled imp, with the hardest jaw you will see
On virtue’s path, and a voice that would rasp the dead,
Came roaring and raging the minute she looked on me,
And threw me out of the house on the back of my head!
If I asked her master, he’d give me a cask a day;
But she, with the beer at hand, not a gill would arrange!
May she marry a ghost and bear him a kitten, and may
The High King of Glory permit her to get the mange.
THE CURSE OF NOT BEING IRISH by mister O’muse
And so we can see, Donald T.,
What the problem may well be:
In your entire immigrant ancestry,
Of Irish blood, you’re entirely free.
But on St. Patrick’s Day, luckily,
Every man is an Irishman, glory be!
So depart for today from your family tree,
Uproot this curse, branch out, and be free!
From ass act to class act, verily
This very day, you can transformed be….
Therefore, by virtue of the Irish in me,
I dub thee, please God, President Donald O’T.
The Whitechapel Whelk 12:40 am on March 17, 2018 Permalink |
Happy St Pat’s! May you be in Heaven before The Devil finds out you’re dead.
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pendantry 4:54 am on March 17, 2018 Permalink |
I have no verse for you, but I do have a riddle:
What’s the difference between a stoat and a weasel?
(One’s weaselly recognised, the other is stoatally different). Ha Ha.
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Garfield Hug 5:46 am on March 17, 2018 Permalink |
🍀🍀🍀Happy St Pat’s Day🍻🍀🍀🍀😄
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GP Cox 8:11 am on March 17, 2018 Permalink |
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Carmen 8:24 am on March 17, 2018 Permalink |
From one person with the Irish in ‘er to another – Happy St. Paddy’s Day! (oh, and the ditty for the Donald O.T is a good ‘un)
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Lisa R. Palmer 8:33 am on March 17, 2018 Permalink |
Lol!! Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
May the green you wear
reflect the green you bear
as good fortune follows you ev’rywhere!
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mistermuse 11:28 am on March 17, 2018 Permalink |
I WANT TO THANK ALL WHO COMMENTED. FOR NOW, I’M UNABLE TO REPLY INDIVIDUALLY DUE TO COMPUTER ISSUES, SO PLEASE EXCUSE THIS COLLECTIVE RESPONSE, WHICH IS BEING SENT ON MY DAUGHTER’S COMPUTER. SORRY I CAN’T DO MORE UNTIL THE PROBLEM IS FIXED, BUT IT SEEMS I’M THE VICTIM OF AN IRISH CURSE! WHY ME, LORD (INSTEAD OF THAT INFIDEL, THE DONALD)?
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Carmen 12:41 pm on March 17, 2018 Permalink |
Would mister muse be muted ?? 😉
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mistermuse 3:26 pm on March 17, 2018 Permalink
Carmen, I’m no longer muted — for some mysterious reason, I am suddenly able to log in again, after not being able to do so since yesterday afternoon (I had pre-written the post before the problem, but had to use my daughter’s computer to publish it). They say time heals all things, but this is the first time I heard of time fixing a computer problem. I’m thinking St. Patrick must have interceded with the computer gods on my behalf. 🙂
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Carmen 4:10 pm on March 17, 2018 Permalink
This same thing happened to another blogger friend of mine just the other day — it’s WordPress gremlins, I believe! Glad St. Patrick interceded. . . 🙂
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Don Frankel 3:39 pm on March 17, 2018 Permalink |
Muse, today everyone in New York City is Irish and wearin’ the green. So here’s my toast to you.
“May your glass ever be, full. May the roof over your head ever, be strong.
And may we both be in heaven for a half an hour before the Devil knows we’re dead.”
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mistermuse 11:21 pm on April 8, 2018 Permalink |
Sorry for the delayed reply, Don. Somehow I overlooked your comment — I must have had a few too many glasses of Stout at the time.
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arekhill1 3:58 pm on March 17, 2018 Permalink |
Will the Savoir Fairy join the leprechaun and the banshee as Irish legends, Sr. Muse? I sincerely hope so.
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mistermuse 5:31 pm on March 17, 2018 Permalink |
Only on St. Patrick’s Day, Ricardo. I’d hate to think of the French losing their Savoir Fairy all the other days of the year.
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Positively Alyssa 10:20 pm on March 17, 2018 Permalink |
Happy St. Patrick’s Day!! I hope you have a great evening! I wanted to thank you for liking my post about Forgiveness! I appreciate you reading and I hope you will like more of my posts! I look forward to reading more of yours and hope the rest of your weekend is wonderful!
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markscheel1 4:22 pm on March 18, 2018 Permalink |
Muse,
I thought I knew poetry, but I’d never run across these! LOL I’ll have to share with my Irish journalist friend, A. J. Nevertheless, I don’t think they’d work for our current POTUS! Wouldn’t fit on a tweet.
BTW–a friend recommended and lent me a video of the classic ballet film The Red Shoes. Really enjoyed it and thought of you and your love of “the oldies.” Bet you could write something great on that, if you haven’t already! 😉
Mark
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mistermuse 9:40 pm on March 18, 2018 Permalink |
Mark, the only way you could’ve come across the last poem was if you had read my puckish Irish mind, as I just wrote it the day before I published this post. BTW, your Irish journalist friend will no doubt recognize the name of the first poem’s author, John Millington Synge, of PLAYBOY OF THE WESTERN WORLD fame.
I’ll have to pass on The Red Shoes, as I’m not into ballet, though I understand it’s a great film.
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The Coastal Crone 2:15 pm on March 20, 2018 Permalink |
Thank you for choosing to follow my humble blog! I have enjoyed exploring yours and reading your poem’s for St. Patrick’s Day. Now I know what Donald T’s problem is!
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mistermuse 5:17 pm on March 20, 2018 Permalink |
My pleasure, Jo Nell. As for Donald T’s problem, I have to admit it goes far beyond not being Irish, but just for St. Patrick’s Day, I put me Irish blinders on and let it go at that.
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RMW 6:30 pm on March 21, 2018 Permalink |
Ah, a rhyming president.
If only he was resident!
That’s all I have…
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mistermuse 9:18 am on March 22, 2018 Permalink |
RMW, if you mean resident someplace other than the White House, I am not hesitant — I mean ‘hesident’ — to agree.
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Silver Screenings 1:55 pm on March 24, 2018 Permalink |
Whoa! Some pretty grim stuff here, especially the tirade against Doneraile. I’d sure hate to be a resident of that town…!
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mistermuse 4:00 pm on March 24, 2018 Permalink |
Alas, poor Doneraile — curse after curse, each curse worst than the furst!
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Silver Screenings 4:07 pm on March 24, 2018 Permalink
Bahaha! You said it!
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kutukamus 7:20 am on March 31, 2018 Permalink |
Much enjoyed about this very Mr. T
Wreaking havoc on everybody 🙂
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barkinginthedark 1:38 am on October 29, 2019 Permalink |
Alas, no Irish, Drumpf is German
And begorrah, also vermin
continue…
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mistermuse 9:24 am on October 29, 2019 Permalink |
….just like Hermann (Goering).
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barkinginthedark 5:09 pm on October 29, 2019 Permalink
and right now he’s squirmin”
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