Thursday, February 02, 2006


Silent Poetry Reading

Anne has rightly brought to my attention (because you know all of her posts are written exclusively for me) that today across Blogland there is occurring a phenomenon known as The Silent Poetry Reading in honour of Brigid, whose Sacred Holy Day we are celebrating.

Brigid, as you may know (if you did a hasty Google search, as did I), is an Irish Saint. My maiden name is Northern Irish and so I feel compelled to participate.

Now, Ireland is well-known for lovely music and dance, devastatingly beautiful scenery and some seriously kick-ass fibre. However, Ireland's people are also known for their love of ... well ... likker. Which sort of explains a lot (at least about me), no?

I therefore feel it fitting to post a poem about The Demon Drink.

I was born in Glasgow, Scotland, so I have decided to celebrate this Irish Saint's Holy Day with a poem from William Topaz McGonagall, Scotland's Worst Poet. You're welcome.

I expect to find that I have lost at least ten of my Bloglines subscribers by the end of the day.

And now, for your enjoyment:

The Demon Drink

Oh, thou demon Drink, thou fell destroyer;
Thou curse of society, and its greatest annoyer.
What hast thou done to society, let me think?
I answer thou hast caused the most of ills, thou demon Drink.

Thou causeth the mother to neglect her child,
Also the father to act as he were wild,
So that he neglects his loving wife and family dear,
By spending his earnings foolishly on whisky, rum and beer.

And after spending his earnings foolishly he beats his wife-
The man that promised to protect her during life-
And so the man would if there was no drink in society,
For seldom a man beats his wife in a state of sobriety.

And if he does, perhaps he finds his wife fou',
Then that causes, no doubt, a great hullaballoo;
When he finds his wife drunk he begins to frown,
And in a fury of passion he knocks her down.

And in that knock down she fractures her head,
And perhaps the poor wife she is killed dead,
Whereas, if there was no strong drink to be got,
To be killed wouldn't have been the poor wife's lot.

Then the unfortunate husband is arrested and cast into jail,
And sadly his fate he does bewail;
And he curses the hour that ever was born,
And paces his cell up and down very forlorn.

And when the day of his trial draws near,
No doubt for the murdering of his wife he drops a tear,
And he exclaims, "Oh, thou demon Drink, through thee I must die,"
And on the scaffold he warns the people from drink to fly,

Because whenever a father or a mother takes to drink,
Step by step on in crime they do sink,
Until their children loses all affection for them,
And in justice we cannot their children condemn.

The man that gets drunk is little else than a fool,
And is in the habit, no doubt, of advocating for Home Rule;
But the best Home Rule for him, as far as I can understand,
Is the abolition of strong drink from the land.

And the men that get drunk in general wants Home Rule;
But such men, I rather think, should keep their heads cool,
And try and learn more sense, I most earnestlty do pray,
And help to get strong drink abolished without delay.

If drink was abolished how many peaceful homes would there be,
Just, for instance in the beautiful town of Dundee;
then this world would be heaven, whereas it's a hell,
An the people would have more peace in it to dwell

Alas! strong drink makes men and women fanatics,
And helps to fill our prisons and lunatics;
And if there was no strong drink such cases wouldn't be,
Which would be a very glad sight for all christians to see.

O admit, a man may be a very good man,
But in my opinion he cannot be a true Christian
As long as he partakes of strong drink,
The more that he may differently think.

But no matter what he thinks, I say nay,
For by taking it he helps to lead his brither astray,
Whereas, if he didn't drink, he would help to reform society,
And we would soon do away with all inebriety.
Then, for the sake of society and the Church of God,
Let each one try to abolish it at home and abroad;
Then poverty and crime would decrease and be at a stand,
And Christ's Kingdom would soon be established throughout the land.

Therefore, brothers and sisters, pause and think,
And try to abolish the foul fiend, Drink.
Let such doctrine be taught in church and school,
That the abolition of strong drink is the only Home Rule.

Many thanks!

How I adore Bad POets -- and he's renowned as One Of The Worst.

Right up there with Julia Moore, the Sweet Singer of Michigan.
Please FSM, tell me you cut and pasted that, that you didn't type in every word...

Oh, the humanity...
Oops -- not THAT anonymous -- RAMS
Only You could have chosen that for us.
Bwahahahaha! I don't remember the last time that reading a poem made me spew Diet Coke all over the monitor.... thanks for the giggle.
Um... the Word verification thingie looks like "My fkng head"... appropos, no? I'm sure Mr. McGonagall would approve.
Wow. I just wussed out the easy way and posted a Shakespeare did some research, girl.

:) Roller Derby. I'm going to bother you until you come down and visit.
He rhymed with "hullabaloo?" Amazing. And amazingly awful.

Brightened my day!
Unbelievably bad, and SO LONG! I feel I have honored Brigid by reading it to the end. Joan
Whew! I read the Whole Thing, and it was AWFUL. And Long.
Thanks! :-)
I read the whole thing and I could really use a stiff drink.
Whewwwww! Thanks for sharing! ;)
I'm pretty sure those are lyrics to a Johnny Cash song.

And you only lost me as a reader for about 20 minutes. I had to run to the store for some rum. And stuff.
Wow, I thought it would never end. But Marcia's right - I think that's a Johnny Cash song or three!
Is it wrong to need a drink after reading that. Have mercy.
I'm going to read it later, *after* a drink.
Actually, I love reading your blog! Too funny. I loved your posts about the Candian conservatives. And I used to think every day about coming north. There will be nowhere left to go soon. Got to go have a stiff drink! Lisa
Oh, come on, just admit you wrote it yourself :-D
Where on earth did you find such a bad poem? Was he, perhaps, hugely hungover when he wrote it?

and is it cocktail hour yet?

the brother
Wow. How do you decide who is the worst poet, by the way? Does that mean the worst published poet? Just curious.

Nice socks!
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