Whilst I'm on the subject of cursing, here's the famous Curse On Doneraile. I dislike the part about rapparees, but it's generic.

            The Curse of Doneraile

Alas, how dismal is my tale, I lost my watch in Doneraile.
My Dublin watch, my chain and seal, Pilfered at once in Doneraile
May fire and brimstone never fail, To fall in showers on Doneraile.
As lightening flashes across the vale, So down to hell with Doneraile
The fate of Pompey at Pharsale, Be that the curse of Doneraile.
May Beef or Mutton, Lamb or Veal, Be never found in Doneraile.
But Garlic Soup and Scurvy Kale, Be still the food of Doneraile.
May Heaven a chosen curse entail, On rigid rotten Doneraile.
May Sun and Moon forever fail, To beam their lights on Doneraile
May every pestilential gale, Blast that cursed spot called Doneraile.
May not a Cuckoo, Thrush or Quail, Be ever heard in Doneraile.
May Patriots, Kings and commonweal, Despise and harrass Doneraile.
May every Post, Gazette and Mail, Sad tidings bring to Doneraile.
May loudest thunders ring a Peal, To blind and deafen Doneraile.
May vengeance fall at head and tail, From north to south at Doneraile.
May profit light and tardy sale, Still damp the trade of Doneraile.
May fame resound a dismal tale, Whenever she lights at Doneraile.
May Egypt's plagues at once prevail, To thin the knaves of Doneraile.
May frost and snow and sleet and hail, Benumb each joint in Doneraile.
May wolves and bloodhounds trace and trail, The cursed crew of Doneraile.
May Oscar with his fiery flail, To Atoms thresh all Doneraile.
May every mischief fresh and stale, Abide henceforth in Doneraile.
May all from Belfast to Kinsale, Scoff, Curse and Damn you, Doneraile.
May neither flour nor oatenmeal, Be found or known in Doneraile.
May want and woe each joy curtail, That ever was known in Doneraile.
May no one coffin want a nail, That wraps a rogue in Doneraile.
May all the thieves that rob and steal, The gallows meet in Doneraile.
May all the sons of Granuaile, Blush at the thieves of Doneraile.
May mischief big as Norway whale, Overwhelm the knaves of Doneraile.
May curses wholesale and retail, Pour with full force on Doneraile.
May every transport wont to sail, A convict bring from Doneraile.
May every churn and milking pail, Fall dry to stones in Doneraile.
May cold and hunger still congeal, The stagnant blood of Doneraile.
May every hour new woes reveal, That Hell reserves for Doneraile.
May every chosen ill prevail, Over all the imps of Doneraile.
May no one wish or prayer avail, To soothe the woes of Doneraile.
May the Inquisition straight impale, The rapparees of Doneraile.
May curse of Sodom now prevail, And sink to ashes Doneraile.
May Charon's boat triumphant sail, Completely manned from Doneraile.
Oh! may my couplets never fail, To find new curse in Doneraile,
And may grim Pluto's inner jail, Forever groan with Doneraile.

                                  --Pat O'Kelly, 1808