BS: So there!!! Stunning poetic comeback...

Subject: BS: So there!!! Stunning poetic comeback...
From: Little Hawk
Date: 31 Jan 04 - 07:26 PM

I've seen some great verbal comebacks from the likes of Amos, Spaw, and their ilk...I've managed some great ones myself...but we all must bow our heads in awestruck humility before the devastating repartee of William McGonagall!

This was his poetic response to a scurrilous detractor of his work:

LINES IN REPLY TO THE BEAUTIFUL POET WHO WELCOMED NEWS OF MCGONAGALL'S DEPARTURE FROM DUNDEE
by William McGonagall

Dear Johnny, I return my thanks to you;
But more than thanks is your due
For publishing the scurrilous poetry about me
Leaving the Ancient City of Dundee.

The rhymster says, we'll weary for your schauchlin' form;
But if I'm not mistaken I've seen bonnier than his in a field of corn;
And, as I venture to say and really suppose,
His form seen in a cornfield would frighten the crows.

But, dear Johnny, as you said, he's just a lampoon,
And as ugly and as ignorant as a wild baboon;
And, as far as I can judge or think,
He is a vendor of strong drink.

He says my nose would make a peasemeal warrior weep;
But I've seen a much bonnier sweep,
And a more manly and wiser man
Than he is by far, deny it who can!

And, in conclusion, I'd have him to beware,
And never again to interfere with a poet's hair,
Because Christ the Saviour wore long hair,
And many more good men, I do declare.

Therefore I laugh at such bosh that appears in print.
So I hope from me you will take the hint,
And never publish such bosh of poetry again,
Or else you'll get the famous Weekly News a bad name.



Heh! What can anyone really say in reply to that?

- LH

Subject: RE: BS: So there!!! Stunning poetic comeback...
From: mack/misophist
Date: 31 Jan 04 - 08:28 PM

Not at all bad. Now. Who the hell is Willie McGonagall?

Subject: RE: BS: So there!!! Stunning poetic comeback...
From: Rapparee
Date: 31 Jan 04 - 08:31 PM

He is a Scotch poet second only to Julia Moore in his mediocrity.

Subject: RE: BS: So there!!! Stunning poetic comeback...
From: Amos
Date: 31 Jan 04 - 08:33 PM

Little Hawk,

I am delighted you have found someone to look up to, old friend; however I regret I must decline the kind offer to join you.

Regards,

A

Subject: RE: BS: So there!!! Stunning poetic comeback...
From: Peace
Date: 31 Jan 04 - 09:06 PM

Little Hawk: no joking around anymore. What have you done with the dolls?

I'm here reminded of a writer who complained that there was a 'conspiracy of silence' to do with his work. A reviewer replied that indeed there was, and he should join it.

And another in which the headline read "Last evening, _________ played Beethoven. Beethoven lost!"

Subject: Lyr Add: NELL FLAHERTY'S DRAKE
From: Stilly River Sage
Date: 31 Jan 04 - 09:19 PM

Darn thing doesn't scan very well, does it?

For a comeback, I like a good curse. As in

NELL FLAHERTY'S DRAKE

Oh, my name it is Neil, quite candid I tell,
And I lived in Clonmell, which I'll never deny,
I had a large drake, and the truth for to speak,
My grandmother left me, and she going to die;
He was wholesome and sound; he weighed twenty pound,
And the universe 'round I would rove for his sake.
Bad luck to the robber, be he drunk or sober,
That murdered Nell Flaherty's beautiful drake.
His neck it was green, he was rare to be seen,
He was fit for a Queen of the highest degree,
His body so white, it would give you delight,
He was fat, plump and heavy, and brisk as a bee;
My dear little fellow, his legs, they were yellow,
He would fly like a swallow, and swim like a hake.
Until some wicked savage, to grease his white cabbage,
He murdered Nell Flaherty's beautiful drake.

May his pig never grunt, may his cat never hunt,
May a ghost always haunt him in the dead of the night,
May his hen never lay, may his ass never bray,
May his coat fly away like an old paper kite;
May the lice and the fleas the wretch ever tease,
May the pinching north breeze make him tremble and shake,
May a four-year-old bug build a nest in the Iug,
Of the monster that murdered Nell Flaherty's Drake.
May his cock never crow, may his bellows ne'er blow,
And a-pot or po, may he never have one,
May his cradle not rock, may his box have no lock,
May his wife have no smock to shield her back bone,
May his duck never quack, and his goose turn quite black
And pull down the turf with his long yellow beak.
May scurvy and itch, not depart from the breech,
Of the monster that murdered Nell Flaherty's Drake.

May his pipe never smoke, may his teapot be broke,
And to add to the joke may his kettle not boil,
May he lay in the bed 'till the moment he's dead
May he always be fed on lob-scouse and fish oil,
May he swell with the gout, may his grinders fall out,
May he roar, bawl and shout, with the horrid toothache.
May his temples wear horns, and all his toes corns,
The monster that murdered NeII Flaherty's drake.
May his spade never dig, may his sow never pig,
Every nit on his head be as large as a snall,
May his house have no thatch and his door have no latch,
Nay his turkey not hatch, may the rats eat his meal,
May every old fairy fiom Cork to Dunleary,
Dip him in snug and easy in some pond or lake,
Where the eel and the trout may slime in the snout,
Of the monster that murdered Nell Flaherty's Drake.

May his dog yelp and growl with hunger and cold,
May his wife always scold 'till his brain goes astray,
May the curse of each hag, that e'er carried a bag,
Alight on his nag till his beard it turns grey,
May monkeys still bite him, and man-apes affright him,
And everyone slight him asleep or awake,
May weasels still gnaw him, and jackdaws still claw him,
The monster that murdered Nell Flaherty's Drake.
Then all the good news l have to diffuse,
'Tis for Peter Hughes, and blind Peter McFree,
There's big nosed Bob Manson, and buck-toothed Ned Hanson,
Each man has a grandson of my darling Drake,
My bird he had dozens of nephews and cousins,
And one I must get or my heart it will break,
To keep my mind easy or else l'll run crazy,
So this ends the song of Nell Flaherty's Drake.

Subject: RE: BS: So there!!! Stunning poetic comeback...
From: CarolC
Date: 31 Jan 04 - 09:30 PM

Eat yer heart oot Bill McGonagall

Subject: RE: BS: So there!!! Stunning poetic comeback...
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 31 Jan 04 - 09:37 PM

Come on, Nell, it was just a friggin' duck for God's sake!

Subject: RE: BS: So there!!! Stunning poetic comeback...
From: Rapparee
Date: 31 Jan 04 - 10:08 PM

'Twas Robert Emmett himself, Bee-Dubya.

There was another one I ran across, a curse placed on Donerail by a poet who lost his watch there. It was paired with a blessing when Lady Donerail replaced the watch. Can't find it, of course.

Subject: RE: BS: So there!!! Stunning poetic comeback...
From: Little Hawk
Date: 31 Jan 04 - 10:53 PM

Man, oh, man! That Nell Flaherty had a way with words. What a tirade of vengeful wishes!

I am also delighted to add the site with "Ode on the Mammoth Cheese" to my folder of "funny websites". It remains a masterpiece in the art of really, really terrible poetry.

Thanks for the link!

- LH

Subject: Lyr Add: A GLASS OF BEER
From: GUEST,Clint Keller
Date: 31 Jan 04 - 11:29 PM

I always liked this poem by James Stephens; bit of drift here, though -- it's not terrible poetry.

 A GLASS OF BEER

The lanky hank of a she in the inn over there
Nearly killed me for asking the loan of a glass of beer;
May the devil grip the whey-faced slut by the hair
And beat bad manners out of her skin for a year.

That parboiled ape, with the toughest jaw you will ever see
On virtue's path, and a voice that would rasp the dead,
Came roaring and raging the minute she looked at me,
And threw me out of the house on the back of my head!

If I asked her master he'd give me a cask a day;
But she, with the beer at hand, not a gill would arrange!
May she marry a ghost and bear him a kitten, and may
The High King of Glory permit her to get the mange.

clint

Subject: RE: BS: So there!!! Stunning poetic comeback...
From: Stilly River Sage
Date: 01 Feb 04 - 12:47 AM

Out of curiosity I pulled out the Clancy Brothers & Tommy Makem version I have of Nell Flaherty's Drake. I thought the arrangment I posted (I copied it here from the DT) was unusual. The record arranges the verses differently, doesn't use some, changes others. There are more breaks and the chorus repeats itself a couple of times, I think. On the record it goes by so quickly that it will take a while to get the Clancy version, but I'll post it once I get it all.

SRS

Subject: RE: BS: So there!!! Stunning poetic comeback...
From: Rapparee
Date: 01 Feb 04 - 11:12 AM

It's a comeback of a sort, I suppose. I've always liked Pope's "Epistle to Arbuthnot" and especially

...Let Sporus tremble — "What? that thing of silk,
Sporus, that mere white curd of ass's milk?
Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel?
Who breaks a Butterfly upon a Wheel?"
Yet let me flap this Bug with gilded wings,
This painted Child of Dirt that stinks and stings;
Whose Buzz the Witty and the Fair annoys,
Yet Wit ne'er tastes, and Beauty ne'er enjoys,
So well-bred Spaniels civilly delight
In mumbling of the Game they dare not bite.
Eternal Smiles his Emptiness betray,
As shallow streams run dimpling all the way.
Whether in florid Impotence he speaks,
And, as the Prompter breathes, the Puppet squeaks;
Or at the Ear of Eve, familiar Toad,
Half Froth, half Venom, spits himself abroad,
In Puns, or Politicks, or Tales, or Lyes,
Or Spite, or Smut, or Rymes, or Blasphemies.
His Wit all see-saw between that and this,
Now high, now low, now Master up, now Miss,
And he himself one vile Antithesis.
Amphibious Thing! that acting either Part,
The trifling Head, or the corrupted Heart!
Fop at the Toilet, Flatt'rer at the Board,
Now trips a Lady, and now struts a Lord.
Eve's Tempter thus the Rabbins have exprest,
A Cherub's face, a Reptile all the rest;
Beauty that shocks you, Parts that none will trust,
Wit that can creep, and Pride that licks the dust.

or Dryden's MacFlecknoe

...Cried: ''Tis resolved; for nature pleads, that he
Should only rule, who most resembles me.
Shadwell alone my perfect image bears,
Mature in dullness from his tender years:
Shadwell alone, of all my sons, is he
Who stands confirmed in full stupidity.
The rest to some faint meaning make pretence,
But Shadwell never deviates into sense.
Some beams of wit on other souls may fall,
Strike through, and make a lucid interval;
But Shadwell's genuine night admits no ray;
His rising fogs prevail upon the day....

Neither, as far as I know, is considered to be in the same league as McGonagle, though.

Subject: RE: BS: So there!!! Stunning poetic comeback...
From: Amos
Date: 01 Feb 04 - 11:53 AM

There's some wonderful cussing modeled after Flaherty's drake in two of the Song Challenge items of years past -- one by derrymacash and one by yrs trly concerning a remarkable chicken.


A

Subject: RE: BS: So there!!! Stunning poetic comeback...
From: freda underhill
Date: 02 Feb 04 - 03:04 AM

HOW DO WE RESPOND TO WILLIAM MCGONAGALL'S LINES IN REPLY TO THE BEAUTIFUL POET WHO WELCOMED NEWS OF MCGONAGALL'S DEPARTURE FROM DUNDEE.?

..Out, damned Scot! out, I say!--One: two: why, then, 'tis time to rhyme.--Hellish verses!--Fie, my lord, fie! a rhymer, and a bard? What need we fear who scans it, when none can call our poet to account?--Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much doggerel in him?

lady macbreath

Subject: Lyr Add: TO MY FRIENDS AND CRITICS
From: Rapparee
Date: 02 Feb 04 - 09:09 AM

An honest answer to Julia Moore's critics is in the last verse:

TO MY FRIENDS AND CRITICS

Come all you friends and critics,
      And listen to my song,
A word I will say to you,
      It will not take me long,
The people talks about me,
      They've nothing else to do
But to criticise their neighbors,
      And they have me now in view.

Perhaps they talk for meanness,
      And perhaps it is in jest,
If they leave out their freeness
      It would suit me now the best,
To keep the good old maxim
      I find it hard to do,
That is to do to others
      As you wish them do to you.

Perhaps you've read the papers
      Containing my interview;
I hope you kind good people
      Will not believe it true.
Some Editors of the papers
      They thought it would be wise
To write a column about me,
      So they filled it up with lies.

The papers have ridiculed me
      A year and a half or more.
Such slander as the interview
      I never read before.
Some reporters and editors
      Are versed in telling lies.
Others it seems are willing
      To let industry rise.

The people of good judgment
      Will read the papers through,
And not rely on its truth
      Without a candid view.
My first attempt at literature
      Is the "Sweet Singer" by name,
I wrote that book without a thought
      Of the future, or of fame.

Dear Friends, I write for money,
      With a kind heart and hand,
I wish to make no Enemies
      Throughout my native land.
Kind friends, now I close my rhyme,
      And lay my pen aside,
Between me and my critics
      I leave you to decide.