Very Bad Poetry by Kathryn Petras Read Free Book Online

youth beware of these,
For some of them might rudely squeeze
And bite your cheek, then songs or glees
We could not sing, oh! queen of cheese.
    We’rt thou suspended from balloon,
You’d cast a shade even at noon,
Folks would think it was the moon
About to fall and crush them soon.
    These are two more examples of McIntyre’s dairy odes—proof that he fully deserved the epithet that was bestowed upon him: “the Cheese Poet.”
from
Oxford Cheese Ode
    The ancient poets ne’er did dream
That Canada was land of cream
They ne’er imagined it could flow
In this cold land of ice and snow,
Where everything did solid freeze,
They ne’er hoped or looked for cheese.
Prophecy of a Ten Ton Cheese
    In presenting this delicate, dainty morsel to the imagination of

the people I believed it could be realized. I viewed the machine

   that turned and raised the mammoth cheese, and saw the

powerful machine invented by James Ireland at the West Oxford

   companies’ factory to turn the great and fine cheese he was

making there. This company with but little assistance could

   produce a ten ton cheese.
    Who hath prophetic vision sees
In future times a ten ton cheese,
Several companies would join
To furnish curd for great combine,
More honor far than making gun
Of mighty size and many a ton.
    Machine it could be made with ease
That could turn this monster cheese,
The greatest honour to our land
Would be this orb of finest brand,
Three hundred curd that would need squeeze
For to make this mammoth cheese.
    So British lands could confederate
Three hundred provinces in one state,
When all in harmony agrees
To be pressed in one like this cheese,
Then one skilful hand could acquire
Power to move British empire.
    But various curds must be combined
And each factory their curd must grind,
To blend harmonious in one
This great cheese of mighty span,
And uniform in quality
A glorious reality.
Disaster to Steamer Victoria at London
    At London, Thames is a broad stream
Which was the scene of a sad theme.
A fragile steamer there did play
O’ercrowded on a Queen’s Birthday,
While all on board was bright and gay;
But soon, ’neath the cold water, lay
Naught but forms of lifeless clay.
Which made, alas! sad month of May.
from
Potato Bug Exterminators
    When we do trace out nature’s laws,
And view effects, and muse on cause,
For the future there’s great hope
If we our eyes do only ope.
With joy they will often glisten,
If to truth one doth but listen;
But people often turn deaf ear
And what is useful will not hear.
    Now for a minute, lend your luggs,
Our theme, it is potato bugs.
Wooden Leg
    Misfortune sometimes is a prize,
And is a blessing in disguise;
A man with a stout wooden leg,
Through town and country he can beg.
    And the people in the city,
On poor man they do take pity;
He points them to his timber leg
And tells them of his poor wife, Meg.
    And if a dog tries him to bite,
With his stiff leg he doth him smite,
Or sometimes he will let him dig
His teeth into the wooden leg.
    Then never more will dog delight
This poor cripple man for to bite;
Rheumatic pains they never twig,
Nor corns annoy foot of leg.
    So cripple if he’s man of sense,
Finds for ill some recompense;
And though he cannot dance a jig,
He merry moves on wooden leg.
    And when he only has one foot,
He needs to brush only one boot;
Through world he does jolly peg,
So cheerful with his wooden leg.
    In mud or water he can stand
With his foot on the firm dry land,
For wet he doth not care a fig,
It never hurts his wooden leg.
    No aches he has but on the toes
Of one foot, and but one gets froze;
He has many a jolly rig,
And oft enjoys his wooden leg.

GEORGE MEREDITH
(1828-1909)
    T he cerebral English novelist and poet focused much of his intellect on two themes: social Darwinism and the relationships and battles between the sexes; the latter theme was stimulated by the authors own bad marriage. Fame came relatively late to the prolific Meredith, who at his best could be