Far be it from a man of lofty principle
To yield and give way imprudently
Before criticism neither just nor sensible
And given in a manner most unstudently

For ne'er was British soil gained
At the cost of bold British lives
By those who turned tail and cried "Refrain!"
Like a bunch of terrified alewives

Not this be the custom of the brave
Who stand midst the wrack and ruin
And shrink not from the chance of too close a shave
Like a small dog shrinks from an angry bruin

Nay, nay, for a Briton shall press, press on!
Till the prize of the battle is won
Not Amos, the devil, nor dread Babylon
Shall he fear till his job is done!

On, on! Glorious Albion! Into the breach!
Let Shatner be crown-ed as King
McGonagall then all our lessons to teach
As we rhyme words like "fling", "sting", and "ding"

The fact is, McGonagall is the Patrick Henry of Poetry, his motto being: "Give me Poetry or Give me Death!!!" And as for Shatner, he needs no defence. He is beyond evaluation or criticism by mere mortals.