top of page

The Romantic Poets

SUMMARY:

Take a musical look at one of the finest ever artistic groups: the romantic poets. William Wordsworth, John Keats, Mary Shelley, Lord Byron and Percy Shelley express themselves with an epic pop ballad.

Generic pop music parody

LYRICS:

Yeah

Oooh.

 

“I wondered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o’er vales and hills

When all at once I saw a crowd”, yeah.

 

Wordsworth though I rate your nature-hot take

Go riff on a cliff or go jump in a lake.

You may be inspired by your environment

But I write about me, the scandalous Byron.

 

My name is Keats, I’ve got all the right beats

Like Wordsworth, I love the nightingale tweets

I’m not as posh as them and that’s a big concern

But I wrote an ode to a Grecian urn.

 

“Beauty is truth and truth is beauty”

You’re just a cockney oik - No need to be snooty.

 

Nature is a crazy mama

The key to life and all its drama.

Romantics love to get the feels

We imagine big, we don’t keep it real.

 

Yeah, yeah.

 

You’re an awful writer - Your epic tales are lame

They’re all about your ego – You’re just jealous of my fame

You don’t have to struggle there’s no fire in your belly -

I leave that stuff to Percy Bysshe Shelley.

 

Let’s change the world, our poetry sings

Of dangerous power of Queens and Kings

“Men must assert their rights to grow”

But don’t forget the ladies – Hello!

 

Romantics love to get the feels

We imagine big, we don’t keep it real.

I died ignored, they were gigantic

Now how about we hear from a New Romantic –

 

My story will blow you away, I’m Mary Shelley and here’s what I say

On a holiday in Lake Geneva we got a bad story-telling fever.

Talked late at night of tales that affect us, frightening fables of ghosts and spectres

One terrifying story of mine inspired me to write Frankenstein.

 

That scary monster is your claim to fame.

Yeah, and people still think Frankenstein was the monster’s name.

 

Romantics love to get the feels

We imagine big, we don’t keep it real.

I was like a rock-star hero

We had fame too, but Keats got zero.

 

25, I died of TB

I was 29 when I drowned at sea

I lived to 36, but that was it for me

And I was dead by 53.

 

Unlike them I was late and great-y

Lived to the ripe old age of 80.

Life is short and cruel and frantic

Nature lives on – that’s so romantic.

FROM:

RELATED SONGS:

PICTURES:

bottom of page