William “Topaz” Mc Gonagall was poet from Dundee, who discovered he could make a rhyme at the grand old age of 52 or so.
He considered himself second to Shakespeare in Britian, and it will be of no surprise that he was of Irish stock to have a neck to make a claim such as that considering the quality of the verse he wrote.
And them his finest hour came, Or maybe his greatest composition of shame! When the Tay Bridge collapsed in a gale While upon it crossed a train by rail... And to write upon it he was possessed To read his words few were impressed And his ode to the tragedy of the bridge of the Tay Causes smiles to all to this very day.
Today he is lauded as probably the worst poet in history, and some say he was a fool, more say he was a satirist. His style is like the peasant songs, except not set to music, and presented as pure poetry.
His style of delivery left a lot to be desired, and he was mocked frequently when doing readings in his native city and beyond.
Was he a fool... or just a bad poet If he was a fool he seemed not to know it Some say he was clever acted if on a stage, Commanded an audience as he read each page. Though they laughed at him things threw, That he brightened their day that much he knew And how many writers who so serious could be Will be long forgotten when remembered is he?
Whether satirist, fool or genuine and misguided, this poetic anti-hero can be found in all writers, and this poem is written in his style to recount his tale!
Of awful verse he was the master, Writing of the Tay Bridge disaster, Stating Shakespeare the best wordsmith be, In Britain to date, and second he, No disrespect to Burns the Bard No desire for a great name to be tarred, He was second best Scottish son, North of the border, Mc Gonagall was number one!
On receiving inspiration divine Pen he seized to write a line
Continued to write, such verse he penned: Was to cause mirth until his end! His first verse was to the Rev. Gilfillan, an address Which was judged by same to be a poetic mess Wryly the poets efforts the minister did dismiss Stating "Shakespeare wrote nothing like this!" How many poets refuse to use rhyme Mc Gonagall insisted to use it all the time Unfortunately the pattern often fell out of place, For the Romantics cast him from grace, He was but a common man, at least he did try, To be like him, none want to be including I, But still to convention he was never a slave, And to his emotions was never the knave
As I this verse write in his appalling style I admire his bravery, smiling all the while, Though great are his foes and his friends are few, To his art in his heart he tried to be true, Those who read his words may mock and may grin But to be a weaver and a poets no sin And as I sit here more poetry to write, May I be pure as heart as he as I scribble tonight!