Born in Scotland (and aren't all really bad poets born in Scotland?), James McIntyre emigrated to Canada when he was fourteen. He is thus Canada's claimant to the worst poet evar. He had always dabbled in verse on a variety of themes, but it was in Ontario that he discovered the great theme of his work, the one subject which could make his verse soar to the depths of imbecility: cheese. McGonagall was a weaver, who, 'struck by the muse at the age of 52, abruptly gave up his job to devote himself to an art at which he had not the vaguest talent.' Come with me now, and immerse yourselves in the cheesy, splendid poems of Scotland's (and Canada's) two worst exponents of the muse. Evar.
James McIntyre - The Cheese Poet. Was he the worst poet to have lived, evar? Or was it the noble William Topaz McGonagall, much beloved of goons.