A Small Ode on a Trump Inauguration Poem

The Scotsman reports that a poem “inspired by Scotland” has been released to celebrate the coming inauguration of Donald Trump as President of the United States.

Poet Joseph Charles MacKenzie, of The Society of Classical Poets, refers to Donald Trump’s Scottish roots, while making what may be a decisive contribution to the debate over whether the next four years will be good or bad for the arts.

I figured if he could write an inauguration poem, anyone can, so I respectfully submit the following.


O come, gather round now, and look at the mince

That some numpty’s served up for the US crown prince!

(Our balladeer comes of a group that gives homes

To those poor folk addicted to classical poems.)

Though mostly the verses are well-rhymed and metric

The fact-checking justly might be called eccentric:

For example, the hint that the Scots might be proud

At the thought that this walloper was a MacLeod!

Myself, though far off too, I wouldn’t expect it

Of a country which voted dead set against Brexit,

Who, seeing the rise of that mad orange man,

Abused him as only the Scottish folk can,

Whose main point of contact’s the golf courses ploughed

Through the land by the man that’s (they say) a MacLeod!

Oh, Joe! When your chap’s down from his golden tower

We won’t see your fantasy nation in flower.

Though your dream is my nightmare, and though your lines scan,

Your chappie will govern the same way he ran:

By throwing raw meat to his racist adherents

And drowning out real debate with incoherence.

A reign of confusion will fall from the cloud

Of the President you choose to call a MacLeod!

Joe Charlie MacK, when you deal with Trump’s tripe

You cannae just listen for something you like!

It might be that none of it has any truth.

What I see here is tangible, tangerine, proof

You can seem to hate women and folk of all races —

Live a life that’s a long stream of public disgraces —

And they’ll vote you in if you’re sufficiently loud,

Like the foulmouthed satsuma that sprang from MacLeod!

Respecting of others just makes the lad whine.

Of your standing for “freedom”, I’ve seen not a sign.

Truth, Freedom, and Justice will a’ wear a shroud

At the fête of your rhapsodised beast of MacLeod!


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