The Bard On The Bodach (who Has Denied Him Hospitality)

May a messenger come from the High Place of God
To bear up your soul to a throne-
But a robber be robbing him on the way back
And your fall be as dead as a stone.

May your tables be laden with jewels and gold
And your hands be upon it for proof-
When the devil whips in by your beggarly door
To tear your red soul through the roof.