The O’Connor Sonnet(-ish)

Scream only for me, Banshee.

 

Five families, doth the banshee fete

and by birth’s bequeath claim I such honor:

to know that though small a death I have bed,

I shall withdraw bemoaned like an O’Connor.

 

But what good be a tear if by known duress

it be shed, or duly spread for countless others?

And what taint, were conquest at life’s egress

won like pity head, bestowed by your mother?

 

O stupid screaming ghost–

‘neath heel whom I would scrape to see–

Caoine o’er my gaunt stiff the most,

Or better still, only scream for me.

 

Never laud another with your squeal:

No means Kava-naugh, deny O’Brien;

O’Grady you can watch shuffle off, but curtail your zeal;

Rebuff O’Neil, O’Rrhaphy your hymen.

 

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