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Magic of a bad poet(William McGonagall) William Topaz McGonagall, his versification immense. Broke the laws of rhyme, some say common sense, Whenever he felt inspired, in writing he'd immerse, This Dundee bard, master of incompetent verse, An original Dundee weaver, devoid of any humour, Left his job for his poetry, a butt of fun and rumour, He'd comb city streets, inspiration he sought to find, He soon found ridicule was what the public had in mind, He'd sell his single broadsheets, " my poetic gems", said he, His public laughed at him, after paying a minimal fee, Many people pondered " where's this ramblings belong?", A few skeptics saying "Was McGonagall playing along"? Poverty was common, poetry did not pay it's way, Under a mask of stupidity, Willie knew exactly what to say, With a sly satirical smile, his financial reward secure, He cleverly played them along, poetic justice for sure, McGonagall, a thespian on Dundee's amateur stage. Discovered his bent for comedy, and turned another page, For masking his satire in a performance so sincere, Hid within the written word, not as it should appear, Long drawers under his kilt, to an audience he'd appear, Daftness was his trademark, eccentricity held no fear , Insensible to insult, his oration filtered through, To the satirical recipient, as he knew how to do, To antagonise his audience sometimes got out of hand, He struggled when carried out, by a very unruly band, Then gave an impromptu act, a crowd to enthral, Cheering when entertained by the great McGonagall, Conduct unbecoming, banned in Dundee's music hall, He threatened to leave the city, give them all a final call, Was he a genius?, remains unanswered to this time. The magic that was in McGonagall's poetic rhyme. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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