That the flies and the fleas may the wretch ever tease,
And the piercing north breeze make him shiver and shake,
May a lump of a stick raise bumps fast and thick
On the monster that murdered Nell Flaherty’s drake.
May his cradle ne’er rock, may his box have no lock,
May his wife have no frock for to cover her back;
May his cock never crow, may his bellows ne’er blow,
And his pipe and his pot may he evermore lack.
May his duck never quack, may his goose turn black,
And pull down his turf with her long yellow beak;