Product Description

Discovering his poetic ability in 1877, William McGonagall has remained one of the most popular of Scotland's alternative poets. This collection of his work includes poems from "Poetic Gems", "More Poetic Gems" and "Last Poetic Gems". Also included is autobiographical material which appeared in the original volumes of his work as well as "The Tay Bridge Disaster" and "The Death of Lord and Lady Dalhousie".

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #953039 in Books
• Published on: 1992-10
• Original language: English
• Binding: Paperback
• 172 pages

Customer Reviews

Scotland's other bard....
It is easy to be snobbish, sarcastic and cynical about William McGonagall. Often described as "Scotland's worst poet", his shamelessly unironic rhyming contortions are to Victorian poetry what Eddie the Eagle is to ski-jumping. But both were brave enough to have a go! It is impossible to read this book without a smile; as such his poetry is hilariously (albeit unintentionally) entertaining and the eccentric McGonagall has his loyal fans. McGonagall's poetry is marked by bathos:
"All ye tourists who wish to be away
From the crowded city for a brief holiday
The town of Nairn is worth a visit, I do confess
And it's only fifteen miles from Inverness."
(from "Beautiful Nairn")
For more like this buy the book!

O mickle rhymer
O mickle rhymer of Caledonian race!
Alas! that some, as I have heard, hold in disgrace -
For up to your Muse they can never measure,
No matter by night and by day they endeavour,
At least many folk do aver.

Great Bard of Tay! 'tis harder than it look
To pen the like of what is written in this book,
Which I venture, without fear of rebuke, will never be overtook.
Ye should be rhyming still, and also alive!
No bit Parnassus stone left unturn'd: I'll give it five.

The point, which seems to have been missed by another reviewer, is that McGonagall was completely sincere. There's a kind of anti-genius here. Also, he could write vivid and engaging prose in naive style; but he resorted to prose only to introduce his volumes of verse. Read and wonder!

Fellow-citizens of Dundee,
Isn't it really very nice
To think of James Scrymgeour trying
To rescue fallen creatures from the paths of vice?

(No, I didn't write that; I just wish I had.)

William McGonagall: Poet?
I am usually open-minded when it comes to such things as poetry - so rabidly so that I occasionally go out of my way to obtusely praise the works of lesser-thought-of artists, whom I somehow feel it is somehow my duty to defend against the usual torrent of critical abuse.

So it was with William McGonagall. McGonagall is lauded (is that the right word?) as the world's worst poet, and I can only say that after finishing this excruciating collection that I can do naught but concur. Devoid of metre, scansion, or rhyme, it took half a bottle of Courvoisier, half-a-dozen Prozac and a soothing preparation of peppermint and jasmine tea before I could even confront such supposedly satirical vernacular road-accidents as The Tay Bridge Disaster ("...your central girders would not have given way/At least many sensible men do say/Had they been supported on each side with buttresses").

There is nothing funny about scores of innocent people dying in a train wreck, even if it did happen a very long time ago. A dreadful collection and an affront to the Queen's English: I strongly and passionately urge you not to buy this book.