A Glass of Beer -- David O'Bruadair

(Poem #185) A Glass of Beer 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. -- David O'Bruadair

 Irish, 17th century.
 Translated by James Stephens.

 Some of the best invective I've ever seen... the last couplet is simply
inspired :-)

 thomas.

 PS. You didn't _really_ expect me to add a commentary to this poem, did you?