which will be remember'd for a very long time

If there's anything I love more than poetry... or comedy... it's poetry and comedy.  I have Sophie to thank for the laughs that William Topaz McGonagall has provided me. "The worst poet ever to write in English," said Sophie--- and doesn't he just sound like he'd be a fantastically bad poet? I love it when people's names match their overall being. I wish all wikipedia entries were as miraculous as McGonagall's:

William Topaz McGonagall (March 1825 – 29 September 1902) was a Scottish weaver and amateur poet and actor. He won notoriety as a singularly bad poet who exhibited no recognition of or concern for his peers' opinions of his work. He wrote some 200 poems, including the infamous "Tay Bridge Disaster", which are widely regarded as some of the worst in British history. Groups throughout Scotland engaged him to make recitations from his works; contemporary descriptions of these performances indicate that many of these listeners were appreciating McGonagall's skill as a comic music hall character, and as such his readings may be considered a form of performance art. McGonagall has been acclaimed as the worst poet in British history. The chief criticisms of his poetry are that he is deaf to poetic metaphor and unable to scan correctly. In the hands of lesser artists, this might generate merely dull, uninspiring verse. However, McGonagall's fame stems from the humorous effects these shortcomings generate. The inappropriate rhythms, weak vocabulary, and ill-advised imagery combine to make his work amongst the most spontaneously amusing comic poetry in the English language.   

Anyhow, he is genuinely and truly awful in the best possible way. People do "Burns Nights" but with McGonagall instead and I am just dying to have one of my own. He wrote lots about disasters, not just the collapse of the Tay Bridge, not far from where I live. But here, for your pleasure, after the jump (and please read with a brogue), is The Tay Bridge Disaster.

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay!

Alas! I am very sorry to say

That ninety lives have been taken away

On the last Sabbath day of 1879,

Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

'Twas about seven o'clock at night,

And the wind it blew with all its might,

And the rain came pouring down,

And the dark clouds seem'd to frown,

And the Demon of the air seem'd to say-

"I'll blow down the Bridge of Tay."

When the train left Edinburgh

The passengers' hearts were light and felt no sorrow,

But Boreas blew a terrific gale,

Which made their hearts for to quail,

And many of the passengers with fear did say-

"I hope God will send us safe across the Bridge of Tay."

But when the train came near to Wormit Bay,

Boreas he did loud and angry bray,

And shook the central girders of the Bridge of Tay

On the last Sabbath day of 1879,

Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

So the train sped on with all its might,

And Bonnie Dundee soon hove in sight,

And the passengers' hearts felt light,

Thinking they would enjoy themselves on the New Year,

With their friends at home they lov'd most dear,

And wish them all a happy New Year.

So the train mov'd slowly along the Bridge of Tay,

Until it was about midway,

Then the central girders with a crash gave way,

And down went the train and passengers into the Tay!

The Storm Fiend did loudly bray,

Because ninety lives had been taken away,

On the last Sabbath day of 1879,

Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

As soon as the catastrophe came to be known

The alarm from mouth to mouth was blown,

And the cry rang out all o'er the town,

Good Heavens! the Tay Bridge is blown down,

And a passenger train from Edinburgh,

Which fill'd all the peoples hearts with sorrow,

And made them for to turn pale,

Because none of the passengers were sav'd to tell the tale

How the disaster happen'd on the last Sabbath day of 1879,

Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

It must have been an awful sight,

To witness in the dusky moonlight,

While the Storm Fiend did laugh, and angry did bray,

Along the Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,

Oh! ill-fated Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,

I must now conclude my lay

By telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,

That your central girders would not have given way,

At least many sensible men do say,

Had they been supported on each side with buttresses,

At least many sensible men confesses,

For the stronger we our houses do build,

The less chance we have of being killed.