Ode to A Hero Of Mine
William McGonagall wrote poetry he thought to be fine,
Sometimes struggling to force rhyme onto each line,
But his poetic metre would give critics a fright,
Using words that they’d never see as being right,
Yet William Topaz McGonagall, is a hero of mine.
Hear his ode to the Bridge on the Tay,
This stands as an icon of bad verse, so they say,
But if we all spoke with perfect diction,
Which in itself is an elitist fiction,
Then all language would become duller than grey.
Now if all poets wrote strictly to rhyme,
Keeping metre and syllable in time,
And if all literary creation,
Suffered that controlling predilection,
Those who read will have a dreary old time
Which means there is this ambition I have,
To write verse that is equally good, but bad,
And like McGonagall, become known for this fact,
Where critics say what they say with so little tact,
To be their target like William would make me glad.
For such criticism creates public outcry,
Prompting people to go out and buy,
Because such bad poetry just has to be read,
And thousands paid to hear words that he said,
While his critics could do nothing but cry.
So bad poetry can truly be fine,
And McGonagall wrote many a now famous rhyme,
While those who laud it in their literary position,
Know the truth of their jealous sedition,
They just can’t write like McGonagall, this hero of mine.