Toasts:

May you have food and clothing, a soft pillow for your head; May you be forty years in heaven, before the devil knows you're dead.

For every wound, a balm.
For every sorrow, a cheer
For every storm, a calm
For every thirst, a beer.

May the roof above us never fall in, and may we friends gathered below never fall out.

Here's health and prosperity,
to you and all your posterity,
And them that doesn't drink with sincerity,
That they may be damned for all eternity!

Gentlemen, start your livers!

May we live to learn well,
And learn to live well.

May your right hand always be stretched out in friendship and never in want.

Here's to warm words on a cold evening,
A full moon on a dark night,
And the road downhill all the way to your door.

Success to the lover,
honor to the brave,
health to the sick,
and freedom to the slave.

May the Lord keep you in His hand,
And never close His fist too tight on you.

Old wood to burn,
Old books to read,
old wine to drink,
Old friends to trust/

May misfortune follow you the rest of your life,
but never catch up.

Champagne to our real friends,
And real pain to sham friends.

May you live as long as you want,
And never want as long as you live.

May I see you gray,
Combing your grandchildren's hair.

May those who dance on your grave get cramps in their legs.

Health and long life to you,
The woman of your choice to you,
A child every year to you,
Land without rent to you,
And may you die in Ireland.

Curses:

May the curse of Mary Maline and her nine blind children chase you so far over the hills of Damnation that the Lord himself won't find you with a telescope.

May your daughter's beauty be admired by everyone in the circus.

May the devil cut the head off you and make a day's work of your neck.

Six horse-loads of graveyard clay upon you.

May I live just long enough to bury you.

May you be afflicted with the itch and have no nails to scratch with.

All you teeth should fall out except one, and you should have a toothache in that one.

May the seven terriers of hell sit on the spool of your breast and bark at your soul-case.

May you be transformed into a chandelier, to hang by day and burn by night.

May you win a lottery and spend it all on doctors.

May the devil swallow you sideways.

May you live in a house with a hundred rooms, and my each room have its own bed, and my you wander every night from room to room, and from bed to bed, unable to sleep.

May you go stone-blind so that you can't tell your wife from a haystack.

Your nose should grow so much hair it strains your soup.

May fire and brimstone never fail to fall in showers on you.

May you have devoted children to chase the flies off your nose.

May you back into a pitchfork and grab a hot stove for support.

May those who love us love us. And my those that don't love us, may God turn their hearts, and if he cannot turn their hearts, may He turn their ankles so we'll know them by their limping.