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.