Ancient castle of the Mains,
With your romantic scenery
And surrounding plains,
Which seem most beautiful to the eye,
And the little rivulet running by,
Which the weary traveller can drink of when he feels dry.
And the heaven’s breath smells sweetly there,
And scented perfumes fill the air,
Emanating from the green trees and beautiful wild flowers growing there.
There the people can enjoy themselves
And wile away the time,
By admiring the romantic scenery
In the beautiful sunshine;
And pull the little daisy,
As they carelessly recline
Upon the grassy green banks,
Which is most charming to see,
Near by the Castle of the Mains,
Not far from Dundee.
Then there’s the old burying-ground,
Most solemn to see,
And the silent dead reposing silently
Amid the shady trees,
In that beautiful fairy dell
Most lovely to see,
Which in the summer season
Fills the people’s hearts with glee,
To hear the birds singing and the humming of the bee.
O…..M……G!
I thought my Father’s stuff was bad (though, of coourse I never told him) but this fellow’s work is astoundingly bad. I generally write free verse so my stuff dispenses with meter and scansion but MacGonagall just wanders all over. I think people came to hear him just to see how truly awful he could be. Did the poor guy ever catch on?