The Demon Drink

William McGonagall’s lack of literary talent was sublime. So it’s not surprising that he has his defenders. The world’s worst poet, according to almost anyone who has read him, he was also, according to Stephen Pile, “so giftedly bad he backed unwittingly into genius” (The Book of Heroic Failures). There’s something to that argument. Gord Bambrick (The Real McGonagall: A Re-introduction to the Great McGonagall) starts the chase well enough – McGonagall’s “unique style of versification breaks the laws of rhythm, rhyme and common sense in a manner that has eluded his thousands of imitators for more than a century” – but loses the trail completely by contending that McGonagall was a clever satirist profiting from shrewdly bad performance art.

McGonagall wasn’t a music hall act ahead of his time. Much rarer, he was just a timelessly bad poet, the “foremost poet of banal pomposity, excruciating scansion and rhymes of such numbing impact they could give you cauliflower ears just from silent reading” (William McIlvanney). McGonagall himself (The Autobiography of Sir William Topaz McGonagall, Poet and Tragedian, Knight of the White Elephant of Burma) says he was the lucky recipient of “divine inspiration,” and describes the moment he heard the voice telling him to “write, write” as follows: “I wondered what could be the matter with me, and I began to walk backwards and forwards in a great fit of excitement, saying to myself—‘I know nothing about poetry.’” And indeed he did.

I hope this is true. A canny comedian is not a bad thing, but an absurdly awful poet is a national treasure. Here he is on The Demon Drink:

Oh, thou demon Drink, thou fell destroyer;
Thou curse of society, and its greatest annoyer.
What hast thou done to society, let me think?
I answer thou hast caused the most of ills, thou demon Drink.

Thou causeth the mother to neglect her child,
Also the father to act as he were wild,
So that he neglects his loving wife and family dear,
By spending his earnings foolishly on whisky, rum and beer.

And after spending his earnings foolishly he beats his wife-
The man that promised to protect her during life-
And so the man would if there was no drink in society,
For seldom a man beats his wife in a state of sobriety.

And if he does, perhaps he finds his wife fou',
Then that causes, no doubt, a great hullaballo;
When he finds his wife drunk he begins to frown,
And in a fury of passion he knocks her down.

And in that knock down she fractures her head,
And perhaps the poor wife she is killed dead,
Whereas, if there was no strong drink to be got,
To be killed wouldn't have been the poor wife's lot.

Then the unfortunate husband is arrested and cast into jail,
And sadly his fate he does bewail;
And he curses the hour that ever was born,
And paces his cell up and down very forlorn.

And when the day of his trial draws near,
No doubt for the murdering of his wife he drops a tear,
And he exclaims, "Oh, thou demon Drink, through thee I must die,"
And on the scaffold he warns the people from drink to fly,

Because whenever a father or a mother takes to drink,
Step by step on in crime they do sink,
Until their children loses all affection for them,
And in justice we cannot their children condemn.

The man that gets drunk is little else than a fool,
And is in the habit, no doubt, of advocating for Home Rule;
But the best Home Rule for him, as far as I can understand,
Is the abolition of strong drink from the land.

And the men that get drunk in general wants Home Rule;
But such men, I rather think, should keep their heads cool,
And try and learn more sense, I most earnestlty do pray,
And help to get strong drink abolished without delay.

If drink was abolished how many peaceful homes would there be,
Just, for instance in the beautiful town of Dundee;
then this world would be heaven, whereas it's a hell,
An the people would have more peace in it to dwell

Alas! strong drink makes men and women fanatics,
And helps to fill our prisons and lunatics;
And if there was no strong drink such cases wouldn't be,
Which would be a very glad sight for all christians to see.

O admit, a man may be a very good man,
But in my opinion he cannot be a true Christian
As long as he partakes of strong drink,
The more that he may differently think.

But no matter what he thinks, I say nay,
For by taking it he helps to lead his brither astray,
Whereas, if he didn't drink, he would help to reform society,
And we would soon do away with all inebriety.

Then, for the sake of society and the Church of God,
Let each one try to abolish it at home and abroad;
Then poverty and crime would decrease and be at a stand,
And Christ's Kingdom would soon be established throughout the land.

Therefore, brothers and sisters, pause and think,
And try to abolish the foul fiend, Drink.
Let such doctrine be taught in church and school,
That the abolition of strong drink is the only Home Rule.



Postscript: McGonagall campaigned for temperance, which may go some way towards explaining the hostility he experienced from publicans: “Well, I must say,” he writes, “that the first man who threw peas at me was a publican …”