Pages

30 March 2009

The Tayside tragedian on the Bard

AN ADDRESS TO SHAKESPEARE by William McGonagall

Immortal! William Shakespeare, there's none can you excel,
You have drawn out your characters remarkably well,
Which is delightful for to see enacted upon the stage
For instance, the love-sick Romeo, or Othello, in a rage;
His writings are a treasure, which the world cannot repay,
He was the greatest poet of the past or of the present day
Also the greatest dramatist, and is worthy of the name,
I'm afraid the world shall never look upon his like again.
His tragedy of Hamlet is moral and sublime,
And for purity of language, nothing can be more fine
For instance, to hear the fair Ophelia making her moan,
At her father's grave, sad and alone....
In his beautiful play, "As You Like It," one passage is very fine,
Just for instance in fhe forest of Arden, the language is sublime,
Where Orlando speaks of his Rosilind, most lovely and divine,
And no other poet I am sure has written anything more fine;
His language is spoken in the Church and by the Advocate at the bar,
Here and there and everywhere throughout the world afar;
His writings abound with gospel truths, moral and sublime,
And I'm sure in my opinion they are surpassing fine;
In his beautiful tragedy of Othello, one passage is very fine,
Just for instance where Cassio looses his lieutenancy
... By drinking too much wine;
And in grief he exclaims, "Oh! that men should put an
Enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains."
In his great tragedy of Richard the III, one passage is very fine
Where the Duchess of York invokes the aid of the Divine
For to protect her innocent babes from the murderer's uplifted hand,
And smite him powerless, and save her babes, I'm sure 'tis really grand.
Immortal! Bard of Avon, your writings are divine,
And will live in the memories of your admirers until the end of time;
Your plays are read in family circles with wonder and delight,
While seated around the fireside on a cold winter's night.

Ah utterly sublime!

72 comments:

  1. Excruciatingly remarkable. The Bard must be groaning in his eternal sleep. Never heard of McGonagall. Now I see the reason. Hope I'm not hurting one of your friends, or maybe YOU (?), as anonymous rimer? Please, tell me it isn't so...:)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Ah no Claudia, McGonagall existed. He plied his trade in the latter 19th century. He is a national treasure, despite being one of the worst poets ever!

    ReplyDelete
  3. I guess he's a bit like our Canadian Cheese poet. Not that I want to put myself on a higher level, but at least McEntyre's descriptions were pleasant to taste! Hope you're doing well, cast et al...

    ReplyDelete
  4. Ah yes Claudie, they are kindred spirits. True, McIntyre's subjects were tastier!

    ReplyDelete
  5. Reading the above
    I do almost cough.

    Those who would not know
    the Scottish Topaz and deeply bow
    like the other William and any raven
    should really fall into the Avon.

    A statue for McGonagall
    demands McSeanagall!

    ReplyDelete
  6. It has been forever hard
    to emulate the Tayside bard
    He now the august pen of McSeanagall
    has bettered e'en the Topaz doggerel

    Bravo sir!

    ReplyDelete
  7. Once a day, I can suffer
    Maybe one boring rimer.
    If two more, I'm asked to try
    I'm simply starting to cry...

    Too rough...Enough...

    ReplyDelete
  8. Your kind words let me blush
    so that I'd like in a rush
    to praise you with a sonnet.
    Ach, if only your name were O'Donnett.

    As it's not I am kicking the wall,
    and wish the peace of the night,
    Yours humble
    McSeanagall

    ReplyDelete
  9. Quality,
    I did not recognize.
    Deeply,
    I apologize.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Trees have xylem and the phloem
    but we our lifeblood is the poem

    ReplyDelete
  11. Jams - Laughing my heart out here. My visit to your place today is far more effective than a pill for depression. Thanks!

    ReplyDelete
  12. It's been a pleasant diversion from my leg aches and that's for sure!

    ReplyDelete
  13. McGonagall is wonderfully awful Ren, the comment process was a lot of fun too!

    ReplyDelete
  14. In 1964, one of my college classmates, George Greanias, wrote a musical comedy version of the Bard's great play Hamlet. He titled it "Hello Hamlet," after "Hello Dolly," and for more than four decades, it has been performed every few years by his residential college. That's a story in itself, but I was reminded of the prologue that Greanias added to Hello Hamlet, in which he dispels rumors of comedy and warns the audience that "what you are about to see tonight [makes a face] is a real tragedy! And so it is with McGonagall's address.

    ReplyDelete
  15. A musical Hamlet? now that must be worth seeing Steve!

    ReplyDelete
  16. "Your plays are read in family circles with wonder and delight,
    While seated around the fireside on a cold winter's night."

    Those lines reminded me of Thomas Bowdler, who sanitised Shakespeare. He is buried in a churchyard in Mumbles.

    ReplyDelete
  17. Ah Bowdler! I didn't realise that he was buried near you Liz

    ReplyDelete
  18. Wow Snoopy I never expected MacGonagall to have that sort of reaction!

    ReplyDelete
  19. An Ode to McGonagall's Overuse of a Particular Phrase

    McGonagall, your writings are very fine,
    Indeed, one could describe them as ... em ...
    [poet scratches head,
    rummages through thesaurus,
    gazes out window for inspiration]
    ... more fine ... er ... than something really fine ...

    (I don't think I'm cut out for this poetry lark. But bravo to McGonagall (and the poets above!))

    ReplyDelete
  20. Ah Egg a worthy addition to the fine poetry in teh comments section!

    ReplyDelete
  21. OH, DE, my knees are getting weak,
    that's poetry at it's absolute peak!

    ReplyDelete
  22. An apple a day
    should keep me healthy.
    A new rime a day
    turns my hair to gray.

    So sorry!
    I can't play!

    ReplyDelete
  23. Dear friends:

    May you be forever free
    with delightful poetry

    ReplyDelete
  24. A Haiku for McGonagall

    Dreadful bard of the
    Scots, your clumsy mulch of words
    delights me strangely...

    Hey, this is fun! (That's not part of the poem, by the way)

    ReplyDelete
  25. D.E. - A perfect Haiku! Not in my league but it will dazzle and challenge McSeanagall. I can't wait...

    ReplyDelete
  26. Haiku follows soon
    looking for words in the moon
    und schlachte ein Huhn.

    [Please don't call me a silly sod,
    just needed to be a bit polyglott, to save the beauty of the ryhme
    otherwise it had gone out of the Leim.]

    ReplyDelete
  27. Ah! but as polyglotte,
    je ne suis pas du tout sotte...

    (it means I'm not dumb at all...)

    ReplyDelete
  28. Bravo again!

    Tous ces poetes, je veux tuer
    Mais j'ai d'autres chats a fouetter

    I don't really want to kill anyone , honest!

    ReplyDelete
  29. Jams - Impayable...Priceless...You win! :)))))

    ReplyDelete
  30. Claudia, please!
    It's still open
    who wins the cheese!

    ReplyDelete
  31. Thanks Claudia but Sean is still game so its a case of:

    We write poems by the ream
    until we all run out of steam

    ReplyDelete
  32. Where the heck,
    is the Egg?
    Does he already wear his gown,
    listening to Funky Town?

    ReplyDelete
  33. My deepest apologies to all,
    I did hear my fierce wife's call;
    A dinner did I need prepare,
    Which I completed with some flair,
    Now lethargy overcomes all,
    Here in Chez Doubt-fall.

    I know it doesn't scan very well, and I'm cheating grossly with the last rhyme. I'm going offline now, but I'll check back tomorrow...

    ReplyDelete
  34. Same here...

    Will be back
    with the pack
    another day.
    No more today...

    ReplyDelete
  35. That was well done,
    brave Irishmann.
    And yes, you are right
    to wish without sorrow
    the peace of the night.
    Until tomorrow.

    ReplyDelete
  36. I thank you all for taking time
    to create such delightful rhyme
    For sure more marvels are to follow
    when we reconvene tomorrow

    ReplyDelete
  37. Douce nuit
    chers amis.
    Sleep well
    minstrels.

    ReplyDelete
  38. Welterusten mijn vrienden

    ReplyDelete
  39. Welterusten mijne vrienden!
    Moogt ge dromen van de natte grienden!
    Waar gebraden smient als voedsel diende
    Voor de danig doven en slechtzienden.
    O gedenk toch hun naargeestig lot!
    En laat hen tronen naast Uw eigen God!
    Want dit is niet wat zij verdienden
    Daar in die vuige vocht'ge grienden.
    O mens! Gedenk Uw Lot!

    Bertus

    ReplyDelete
  40. Bien des gens vont penser,
    "Quelle perte de temps!"
    Et ils sont étonnés
    par nos joyeux moments.

    Mais pourquoi pas rimer
    et même chantonner?
    Pour une tonne de fromage
    j'ai beaucoup de courage.

    McIntyre, McDonagall
    ne me veulent pas de mal.
    Ils me poussent à gagner
    le prix si convoité.

    Et nous tous qui rimons
    dans cette compétition
    partagons l'ambition
    d'agrandir notre nom.

    Alors levons nos verres
    en poésie clinquons.
    Ceci n'est pas la guerre,
    nous sommes tous compagnons.

    Claude (Claudia)

    ReplyDelete
  41. Sorry! Correction: 6 lines above the last one:
    Partageons (not partagons)

    With much apologies for the French but I had so much fun. Haven't done that in a long time. Thanks to all of you for the Riming Contest.

    ReplyDelete
  42. Bertus, dat is een donderslag bij heldere hemel!

    The great Dutch bard's poesia
    cured my oneirophobia.

    ReplyDelete
  43. More wonderful stuff. May I thank you all for a lot of fun!

    ReplyDelete
  44. There does live a man in Lyon,
    whose rhymes I do find très bon!
    On the ladder to fame
    C'est La Craic is his name.

    ReplyDelete
  45. I would write a poem as Gaeilge,
    except I know that it would fail-ge.
    My knowledge is weak,
    My poor brain does creak,
    And my ignorance does make me wail-ge.

    (For non-Irish speakers: the phrase 'as Gaeilge' means "in the Irish language', and is pronounced thusly:
    'As' rhymes with 'toss', and Gaeilge is said "Gale Geh". Otherwise my poem will make little sense, I'm afraid...)

    ReplyDelete
  46. Thank you Mr. Jeating,
    Though I think it might cheating,
    To reclaim appraisal fleeting,
    For that little rhyme of mine.

    For it is no masterpiece,
    No flying V of graceful geese,
    Nothing more than a caprice,
    Or a poem of one line.

    And if you add Et il est très con ! to your own littl ditty, you have a Limerick.

    This is quite fun once you get into it :)

    ReplyDelete
  47. C'est la Craig, grand merci
    for your few words of praise.
    It is hard to appraise
    French lines of poetry
    When Shakespeare is the guy
    that everyone will try
    to copy in reply
    to all who's passing by.

    ReplyDelete
  48. It was great that Bertus
    wrote his lines in Danish.
    It gave the impetus
    for me to be impish
    and challenge all of you
    with more than what you knew.

    Yet it's still a great honour
    to read you men of valour.

    ReplyDelete
  49. So ein Quatsch.
    That is Dutch!

    ReplyDelete
  50. Dutch en Français
    est Hollandais.
    Il parle Danois
    voilà pourquoi
    j'ai dit Danish
    C'est pas très riche!

    ReplyDelete
  51. I'm on my way
    But please do stay
    On my return
    I'll take my turn

    ReplyDelete
  52. C'est tout à fait
    Correct et vrai
    Ce que tu dit du Hollandais,
    Mais n'est-ce pas du triche
    De mettre à l'affiche
    Que le Danois n'est pas très riche?

    ReplyDelete
  53. From round the world the bloggers came
    Seeking neither praise nor fame
    But to put their words - in French or Erse
    in form of existential verse

    ReplyDelete
  54. From Holland, Ireland and from France
    From Canada in merry dance
    Fromd from Albion and Deutschland too
    to bring the gift of verse to you

    ReplyDelete
  55. @Claudia
    Though Double Dutch this may be,
    It's probably Danish to thee.

    Bertus

    ReplyDelete
  56. Pour C'est La Craic:

    Qui était pauvre? C'était ma rime.
    Pas le Danois; il est en prime.
    Toutes ces tulipes dans son jardin;
    il y en a pour les fous, les fins!

    ReplyDelete
  57. I'll repeat on Jams'site, the toast I wrote on Omnium.

    Without rhyme or reason
    poets jump from beer to beer.
    But in this new season,
    this special blogging year,
    it's with wine that we toast
    The Poor Mouth inspired host.

    Let's also toast Seanland
    as green as dear Ireland.

    À la votre! Slainte!

    ReplyDelete
  58. To VLR -

    What was Danish to me
    was the Royals To-Be.
    But now that I've met you
    My Dutch love truly grew.

    ReplyDelete
  59. To a concert I went!
    It was time well spent
    But poetry I missed
    so now I am dist-
    ressed, and away must I go,
    to my bed must I throw
    myself for some slumber,
    and tomorrow I'll ... emm ...

    Sorry, I've run out of inspiration.
    Where's the rhyming dictionary
    when you need one? All the best,
    folks, and thanks, Jams, for
    hosting this impromptu feast of
    versifying. Sleep well, y'all!

    ReplyDelete
  60. Alas, alas my brook is babbled
    with so much verse my brain is scrabbled
    but you my friends please do proceed
    For who knows where this chain will lead

    ReplyDelete
  61. Anonymous12:35 am

    I know I'm late,
    but wait,
    Sean Jeating sent me here,
    His head all full of beer,
    I'd stay and make more rhyme,
    but my glass has spilled its time.
    To sleep...
    To dream...
    Then wake from that dark deep,
    I scheme.

    ReplyDelete
  62. What an honour!
    From far Scotland
    Andrew
    Man of valour
    Now just did land
    And joined our band
    We grew...

    ReplyDelete
  63. Anonymous7:57 pm

    And furthermore...
    I live by Tayside,
    tho when ah'm pissed,
    it seems like Speyside.
    But wher'ere we are
    What'er we do,
    There's a glass o' whisky
    For me an' you.
    Damn fine stuff it is too
    Tho' if ah'm sad it maks me gang boo hoo...
    And now ma rhyme's got stuck on "oo"
    As it tends to do...

    ReplyDelete
  64. Hear my roar and hear my paean
    for a new Tayside tragedian!

    I wish I had far more to say
    but creative juices are astray

    Bravo Andrew, Bravo Claudia!

    ReplyDelete
  65. Where is, where is the Dean,
    Inimitable Sean?
    Germano-Irish-Seanguistic
    In every language, prolific...

    ReplyDelete
  66. Where oh where is Mr Jeating
    His presence here is rather fleeting!

    ReplyDelete
  67. Anonymous10:00 pm

    Sean Jeating
    is in a meeting
    about this post yet beating
    the comment record set at my place last evening
    Which is what led me here,
    to check out my fear
    that this post may catch up
    If folk like me don't shut up

    ReplyDelete
  68. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  69. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  70. Correction:

    Andrew (in his own post)
    Defines Pre-Seanery
    And I, Post-Seanery.
    The man is present
    Even when absent.
    He is here, there,
    And everywhere.
    All over those posts.

    And I wanted to say,
    I like it that way.

    Cheers!

    ReplyDelete