The Ballad Of Erin Go Bragh Poem by James Merchant

Very keen insight,
O weaver of words
Who obviously stores all his own
poetic masterpieces
In a massive library
within the confines of his mind.
Verse fit only for God and the angels
And even they are privileged to read
from his divine thoughts.
Its genius must be too potent of a liquor
for the bellies of man to handle.
This particular piece of criticism reads
like it must have taken you years
To construct,
your magnum opus!
You must find it hard to dumb down your genius
To convey to these mortals
truths that only the enlightened
are aware of.
And THIS truth you have shown us!
This truth about this 'so-called poet'!
You have opened everyone's eyes to the folly of this man!
His prattle, his paling in your shadow
We shall now flock to your banner!
Kiss your feet!
Champion you above all others!
Death to the freemasons!
Death to Yeats!
Erin Go Bragh is near!