A New Temperance Poem, in Memory of my Departed Parents who were Sober Living & God Fearing People
By William Topaz McGonagall
My parents were sober living, and often did pray
For their family to abstain from intoxicating drink alway;
Because they knew it would lead them astray
Which no God fearing man will dare to gainsay.
Some people do say that God made strong drink,
But he is not so cruel I think;
To lay a stumbling block in his children's way,
And then punish them for going astray.
No! God has more love for his children, than mere man.
To make strong drink their souls to damn;
His love is more boundless than mere man's by far,
And to say not it would be an unequal par.
A man that truly loves his family wont allow them to drink,
Because he knows seldom about God they will think,
Besides he knows it will destroy their intellect,
And cause them to hold their parents in disrespect.
Strong drink makes the people commit all sorts of evil,
And must have been made by the Devil
For to make them quarrel, murder, steal, and fight,
And prevent them from doing what is right.
The Devil delights in leading the people astray,
So that he may fill his kingdom with them without delay;
It is the greatest pleasure he can really find,
To be the enemy of all mankind.
The Devil delights in breeding family strife,
Especially betwixt man and wife;
And if the husband comes home drunk at night,
He laughs and crys, ha! ha! what a beautiful sight.
And if the husband asks his supper when he comes in,
The poor wife must instantly find it for him;
And if she cannot find it, he will curse and frown,
And very likely knock his loving wife down.
Then the children will scream aloud,
And the Devil no doubt will feel very proud,
If he can get the children to leave their own fireside,
And to tell their drunken father, they won't with him reside.
Strong drink will cause the gambler to rob and kill his brother,
Aye! also his father and his mother,
All for the sake of getting money to gamble,
Likewise to drink, cheat, and wrangle.
And when the burglar wants to do his work very handy,
He plies himself with a glass of Whisky, Rum, or Brandy,
To give himself courage to rob and kill,
And innocent people's blood to spill.
Whereas if he couldn't get Whisky, Rum, or Brandy,
He wouldn't do his work so handy;
Therefore, in that respect let strong drink be abolished in time,
And that will cause a great decrease in crime.
Therefore, for this sufficient reason remove it from society,
For seldom burglary is committed in a state of sobriety;
And I earnestly entreat ye all to join with heart and hand,
And to help to chase away the Demon drink from bonnie Scotland.
I beseech ye all to kneel down and pray,
And implore God to take it away;
Then this world would be a heaven, whereas it is a hell,
And the people would have more peace in it to dwell.
QuoteAnd if the husband asks his supper when he comes in,
The poor wife must instantly find it for him;
And if she cannot find it, he will curse and frown,
And very likely knock his loving wife down.
That poem is amazing. :o
Quote from: Lyubov on January 06, 2013, 10:41:51 PM
That poem is amazing. :o
Funny thing is, his poems only sound good when drunk.
This is the worst poem I have ever read.
A pansy who lived in Khartoum
Took a lesbian up to his room,
And they argued all night
Over who had the right
To do what, and with which, and to whom.
I don't get it... :o
I'm glad I don't get it, doesn't sound particularly appropriate.
Quote from: peanut on January 06, 2013, 10:42:47 PM
Quote from: Lyubov on January 06, 2013, 10:41:51 PM
That poem is amazing. :o
Funny thing is, his poems only sound good when drunk.
Like Charles Bukowski?
Nevermind. His poems never sound good at all.
James McIntyre, "Prophecy of a Ten Ton Cheese"
Who hath prophetic vision sees
In future times a ten ton cheese,
Several companies would join
To furnish curd for great combine,
More honor far than making gun
Of mighty size and many a ton.
Machine it could be made with ease
That could turn this monster cheese,
The greatest honour to our land
Would be this orb of finest brand,
Three hundred curd that would need squeeze
For to make this mammoth cheese.
So British lands could confederate
Three hundred provinces in one state,
When all in harmony agrees
To be pressed in one like this cheese,
Then one skilful hand could acquire
Power to move British empire.
But various curds must be combined
And each factory their curd must grind,
To blend harmonious in one
This great cheese of mighty span,
And uniform in quality
A glorious reality.
But it will need a powerful press
This cheese queen to caress,
And a large extent of charms
Hoop will encircle in its arms,
And we do not now despair,
But we shall see it at world's fair.
And view the people all agog, so
Excited o'er it in Chicago,
To seek fresh conquests queen of cheese
She may sail across the seas,
Where she would meet reception grand
From the warm hearts in old England.
Apart from the Yoda-esque syntax, I particularly appreciate the metaphor of imperialist statecraft as cheesemaking in stanza three. Inspired.
I'm going to vomit.
Quote from: Gottmitunsalex on January 06, 2013, 10:46:39 PM
...
Who wrote that? It is vulgar genius.
This is one of the worst:
Quote
Putty. Putty. Putty.
Green Putty - Grutty Peen.
Grarmpitutty - Morning!
Pridsummer - Grorning Utty!
Discovery..... Oh.
Putty?..... Armpit?
Armpit..... Putty.
Not even a particularly
Nice shade of green.
My name is Yon Yonson,
I come from Wisconsin.
I work in a lumber yard there.
Everyone that I meet
When I walk down the street,
Says "Hello! What's your name?"
And I say: My name is Yon Yonson (repeat)
Quote from: Bonaventure on January 07, 2013, 01:32:29 AM
My name is Yon Yonson,
I come from Wisconsin.
I work in a lumber yard there.
Everyone that I meet
When I walk down the street,
Says "Hello! What's your name?"
And I say: My name is Yon Yonson (repeat)
You remind me of a man..
[yt]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CBmeOzSzKoY[/yt]
You remind me of the babe!
[yt]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZvyNOg4jSRg[/yt]