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 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.
Righteous Anger
David O'bruaidar
(1)
Poem topics: hair, house, kitten, voice, head, king, skin, ghost, devil, year, master, high, minute, Valentine's Day, glass, permit, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Previous Poem
Next Poem
Write your comment about Righteous Anger poem by David O'bruaidar
Best Poems of David O'bruaidar