Poet McGonagall’s aide-de-camp on the occasions when he visits Perth is Mr James Speedie. Mr Speedie has earned, to an extent which few have, the esteem and confidence of the Bard.
On the occasion of the banquet to the Poet the other day Mr Speedie, as usual, travelled to Dundee, and waited upon the Bard in order to act as his escort. As stated at the Club, various subjects were discussed on the way to Perth, but, of course, the mast interesting was Mr McGonagall’s poetry. A matter which has been troubling the mind of the Inspired One was the difficulty of getting music for his “poetry.”
“Do you know,” he remarked (unconsciously quoting the favourite phrase of the Rev. Mr Spalding), “no music can be composed for my poetry.”
“Indeed,” observed his aide-de-camp, in tones of surprise.
“It cannot be got,” repeated the Bard.
“But, Poet,” queried his companion, respectfully, “what is the reason?”
“Well,” was the reply, “I called on Messrs Methven, Simpson, & Co., the music-sellers, on the subject, and they told me that my poetry was too deep for music.”
The subject dropped.
Evening Telegraph, 26th September 1894
