Despair not Mr C. McGrath
That you've excited the bully wrath
Of the mob that eyes with praise
The poser in his shimmering haze;
Papa wrote as one two fisted,
On his genius he insisted;
Who never got over his mother's dresses,
Or her insistence on his blond tresses;
This manly man became a bore,
To his wives he became a chore,
Always ready with a punch
For any man they had to lunch;
In the end he could not conceal
His fear of weakness that age revealed;
Paranoid he took his life,
Thoughtless of his loving wife.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem