Curse

May your charms and your guile
Serve you well for a while
But then fail like the blossoms of May.
May your hamstring grow taut
May your nose grow a wart,
May your teeth slowly start to decay.

May mistakes stay unlearnt,
May your dinner taste burnt
May your tyres attract nails on the street.
May you often, by chance,
Tuck your skirt in your pants,
May your flatulence not be discreet.

May your midriff expand,
May your legs stay untanned,
May your facial hair grow strong and thick.
May your perfume cause rashes,
May you lose your eyelashes,
May one glass of red wine make you sick.

Oh there’s nothing to fear –
I’m not bitter, my dear.
Sure we parted upon best of terms.
I just wish you good luck
When you find yourself stuck
With a terrible dose of the worms.