The monster that murdered Neill Flaherty’s drake

By | November 27, 2009

May his pipe never smoke, may his teapot be broke
And to add to the joke, may his kettle ne’er boil,
May he keep to the bed ’til 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 Neill Flaherty’s drake.

May his spade never dig, may his sow never pig,
May each hair on his wig be well thrashed with a flail,
May his door have no latch, may his house have no thatch,
May his turkey not hatch, may the rats eat his meat,
May every old fairy, from Cork an Dunleary,
Dip him snug and airy in river or lake,
Where the eel and the trout may feed on the snout
Of the monster that murdered Neill Flaherty’s drake.


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