XXXV
Beneath this stone O’Donnell’s tongue’s at rest—
Our noses by his spirit still addressed.
Living or dead, he’s equally Satanic—
His noise a terror and his smell a panic.
Beneath this stone O’Donnell’s tongue’s at rest—
Our noses by his spirit still addressed.
Living or dead, he’s equally Satanic—
His noise a terror and his smell a panic.