"May his liver be turned into water,
And his bones crack in the cold of his heart,
May dog fennel grow upon his ancestor's graves,
And the grandsons of his children be born without eyes.

May whiskey turn into clabber in his mouth,
And every time he sneezes,
he would blister the soles of his feet,
And the smoke of his pipe, may it make his eyes water,
And the drops fall on the grass that his cows eat,
And poison the butter that he spreads on his bread.

He would die like a stranger to the beauty of such an,
existential Dread."