All humane things are subject to decay,
And, when Fate summons, Monarchs must obey:
This Rapparee found, who, like Augustus, young
Was call'd to Empire, and had govern'd long:
In Prose and Verse, was own'd, without dispute
Through all the Realms of BS, absolute.
This aged Prince now flourishing in Peace,
And blest with issue of a large increase,
Worn out with business, did at length debate
To settle the succession of the State:
And pond'ring which of all Mom's kids was fit
To Reign, and wage immortal War with Wit;
Cry'd, 'tis resolv'd; for Nature pleads that s/he
Should only rule, who most resembles me:
Am—— alone my perfect image bears,
Mature in dullness from his tender years.
Am—— alone, of all my Sibs, is he
Who stands confirm'd in full stupidity.
The rest to some faint meaning make pretence,
But Am—— never deviates into sense.
Some Beams of Wit on other souls may fall,
Strike through and make a lucid interval;
But Am——'s genuine night admits no ray,
His rising Fogs prevail upon the Day.
And so with MOAB's blessings grave,
She did anoint Am-- her new fave.

       --Brian Mac Giolla Meidhre, Séamus an chaca a chaill Éire, Daingean Uí Chúis,Contae Chiarraí: Ballyfungus Press, 1604.