[maryz]

Please don't go! That'll make the harpies even worse!

But suddenly the Harpies arrive,
in a fearsome swoop from the hills,
flapping their wings with a huge noise,
snatching at the food,
and fouling everything with their filthy touch:
then there's a deadly shriek amongst the foul stench.

Aeneid III.225ff.

[1000 silverlings]

If we “hanged our harps on the willows”, does that make us harpies? (Never liked Dido)