The lanky hank of a she in the inn 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 ape, with the toughest jaw you will see On virtue's path, and a voice that would rasp the dead, Came roaring and raging the minute she looked at 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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NO MASTER by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES EPITHALAMIUM by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE PRESENT CRISIS by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL SUNSET IN THE DEVIL'S GLEN: COUNTY WICKLOW by EDMUND JOHN ARMSTRONG PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 47. AL-HAKIM by EDWIN ARNOLD THE TRIUMPH OF MELANCHOLY by JAMES BEATTIE |