Ode to the Mammoth Cheese
By John McIntyre
We have seen thee, queen of cheese,
Lying quietly at your ease,
Gently fanned by evening breeze,
Thy fair form no flies dare seize.
All gaily dressed soon you’ll go
To the great Provincial show,
To be admired by many a beau
In the city of Toronto.
Cows numerous as a swarm of bees,
Or as the leaves upon the trees,
It did require to make thee please.
And stand unrivalled, queen of cheese.
May you not receive a scar as
We have heard that Mr. Harris
Intends to to send you off as far as
The great world’s show at Paris.
Of the 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.
I couldn’t think of much to blog about, so I thought I’d try to entertain you with some bad poetry. I originally went looking for the worst of them all, William McGonagall, but I happened upon a page about John McIntyre and his strange obsession with mammoth cheeses. It was so obscure and disturbing that it had me giggling, so I thought I’d share it. It’s strange to find out that a man in Canada was inspired by cheese… and that wasn’t even the worst cheese poem on the page! But it was the funniest, all because of “the queen of cheese.” If you’re bored, or if you just have a strange cheese fetish, check it out.
And now I’m off to bed. Good night.