Celtic Curses

"No butter be on your milk nor on your ducks a web

May your child not walk and your cow be flayed

And may the flame be bigger and wider

Which will go through your soul

Than the Connemara mountains

If they were on fire"

"May your spuds be like rosary-beads on the stalk"

It;s been a long winter, made even longer by the neighbours and their constant fighting, arguing and seemingly endless collection of piss poor music. Never mind Spring is in the air, so make haste to their door...knock and deliver this fine Curse to the face of the head of the household.

"May you melt off the earth 

like snow off the ditch."

"That you may die roarin' 

like Doran's ass."

I don't know who Doran is and know even less about his Ass, but i like the sentiment.

"May you die without a priest 

in a town with no clergy."

A good one for any particularly religious people of your acquaintance as dying without the presence of a priest was considered not to be the best way to get into heaven.

 A great curse seeks to conjure the worst fate that can be conceived for the cursed. This week's goes well beyond the common curse, Go to hell.

Short Form

May the devil make a ladder of your backbone

While he is picking apples in the garden of Hell.

Long Form

May you go to hell and may you become a living ladder for the devil to climb in his garden. May his evil hooves crush your spine as he picks apples to lure your friends and relations to join you.

Short, sharp and to the point

"May you find the bees but miss the honey"

The senseless slaying of Nell Flaherty's Drake may well have gone unpunished by the laws of man but rest assured the villain will pay and pay in a good old tried and tested Celtic fashion.

May his pipe never smoke, may his teapot be broke 

And to add to the joke, may his kettle ne’er boil, 

May he keep to the bed till the hour that he’s dead, 

May he always be fed on hogwash and boiled oil, 

May he swell with the gout, may his grinders fall out, 

May he roll howl and shout with the horrid toothache, 

May the temples wear horns, and the toes many corns, 

Of the monster that murdered Nell Flaherty’s drake.

May his spade never dig may his sow never pig 

May each hair on his wig be well thrashed with a flail 

May his door have no latch, may his house have no thatch, 

May his turkey not hatch, may the rats eat his meat 

May every old fairy, from Cork to Dunleary, 

Dip him snug and airy in river or lake, 

Where the eel and the trout may feed on the snout 

Of the monster that murdered Nell Flaherty’s drake.

"That you may be a load for four before the year is out".

(It usually required four people to carry a coffin, i.e you are wishing death on someone)

Gobshite