Mine are the ashes of a valiant heart,
It was I
Who once disarmed the Mighty Imagiste, Amy,
She, who, with fluent tongue, did hypnotize
The wordiest members of the Poetry Society,
And rendered them mute, impotent and dumb—
She wiped the floor up with them—
One by one—
And then I rose, and with beguiling brogue,
And that sweet voice that sings with Celtic charm,
I laid her low—
I could never have done it if my name had been Patrick—
But—it was Padraic!