How pleasant to know Mr. McGrath,
    Who has written such volumes of stuff.
    Some think him ill-tempered, psychopath,
    But a few find him pleasant enough.

    His mind is concrete and fastidious,
    His nose is remarkably big;
    His visage is more or less hideous,
    His beard it resembles a wig.

    He has ears, and two eyes, and ten fingers,
    (Leastways if you reckon two thumbs);
    He used to be one of the singers,
    But now he is one of the dumbs.

    He sits in a beautiful parlour,
    With hundreds of books on the wall;
    He drinks a great deal of marsala,
    But never gets tipsy at all.

    He has many friends, laymen and clerical,
    Old Foss is the name of his cat;
    His body is perfectly spherical,
    He weareth a runcible hat.

    When he walks in waterproof white,
    The children run after him so!
    Calling out, "He's gone out in his night-
    Gown, that crazy old Irishman, oh!"

    He weeps by the side of the ocean,
    He weeps on the top of the hill;
    He purchases pancakes and lotion,
    And chocolate shrimps from the mill.

    He reads, but he does not speak, Spanish,
    He cannot abide a hot bath;
    Ere the days of his pilgrimage vanish,
    How pleasant to know Mr. McGrath!

Retold by The Bard of the Boyne

How pleasant to know Mr. McGrath,
Who has written such volumes of stuff.
Some think him ill-tempered, psychopath,
But a few find him pleasant enough.

His mind is concrete and fastidious,
His nose is remarkably big;
His visage is more or less hideous,
His beard it resembles a wig.

He has ears, and two eyes, and ten fingers,
(Leastways if you reckon two thumbs);
He used to be one of the singers,
But now he is one of the dumbs.

He sits in a beautiful parlour,
With hundreds of books on the wall;
He drinks a great deal of marsala,
But never gets tipsy at all.

He has many friends, laymen and clerical,
Old Foss is the name of his cat;
His body is perfectly spherical,
He weareth a runcible hat.

When he walks in waterproof white,
The children run after him so!
Calling out, "He's gone out in his night-
Gown, that crazy old Irishman, oh!"

He weeps by the side of the ocean,
He weeps on the top of the hill;
He purchases pancakes and lotion,
And chocolate shrimps from the mill.

He reads, but he does not speak, Spanish,
He cannot abide a hot bath;
Ere the days of his pilgrimage vanish,
How pleasant to know Mr. McGrath!

Retold by The Bard of the Boyne

Lol, you might make a Bard yet. I must say, I do recomend some Druidic
training for you Stonehengio. You will enjoy it and become a better
man for it. You can work through your Nazi Sympathising if you try
hard.

keep you farts to yourself thank you.
Im a grown up. And your still crap at your Zionist propaganda.
Go back to bed and dont forget to flush after you climb in but before
closing lid.

cyberDruid wrote:
Lol, you might make a Bard yet. I must say, I do recomend some Druidic
training for you Stonehengio. You will enjoy it and become a better
man for it. You can work through your Nazi Sympathising if you try
hard.