But they all pale into insignificance when compared to William Topaz McGonagall (1825 – 1902), the true worst poet ever. As evidence, a few lines from “The Tay Bridge Disaster” (1880). It begins:
“Beautiful railway bridge of the silv’ry TayAlas! I am very sorry to sayThat ninety lives have been taken awayOn the last sabbath day of 1879Which will be remember’d for a very long time.”And it ends:
“Oh! Ill-fated bridge of the silv’ry Tay,I now must conclude my layBy telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,That your central girders would not have given way,At least many sensible men do say,Had they been supported on each side with buttressesAt least many sensible men confesses,For the stronger we our houses do build,The less chance we have of being killed.”
I urge everyone to at least look him up online, but try not to read more than 3 or 4 of his efforts at a time as it makes your brain hurt.
The worst poet is not Satchel. That honour goes to Edinburgh’s greatest son, William Topaz McGonagall (1825 – 1902). Completely unable to scan or use any form of metaphor, he believed that all a poem needed was to rhyme (nearly). I find it difficult to read more than two or three of his poems in succession before my brain starts to melt, but I still count his collected works as a genuine pleasure. A quick search on the internet will be greatly rewarded.
Terry Pratchett wrote a whole book (Soul Music) just to use the line “There’s a guy works down the chip shop swears he’s elvish”, so she’s in good company.
Before I retired, there used to be a weekly competition in our office to see who could get the most steps in. It was stopped when management realised that all we did was pass the monitors between each other whenever we left our desks.
But they all pale into insignificance when compared to William Topaz McGonagall (1825 – 1902), the true worst poet ever. As evidence, a few lines from “The Tay Bridge Disaster” (1880). It begins:
“Beautiful railway bridge of the silv’ry TayAlas! I am very sorry to sayThat ninety lives have been taken awayOn the last sabbath day of 1879Which will be remember’d for a very long time.”And it ends:
“Oh! Ill-fated bridge of the silv’ry Tay,I now must conclude my layBy telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,That your central girders would not have given way,At least many sensible men do say,Had they been supported on each side with buttressesAt least many sensible men confesses,For the stronger we our houses do build,The less chance we have of being killed.”
I urge everyone to at least look him up online, but try not to read more than 3 or 4 of his efforts at a time as it makes your brain hurt.