Oh, his name is Pat McWilliams; he's from Kansas City, Kan.
His posts are in the hundreds; they are always in demand
In caves, with slate and pebbles and with feldspar and some coal
His forebears played for humanoids, inventing rock and roll

Oh, the ship bell rang as the singers sang of the wreck near Whitefish Bay
McWilliams spoofed a lot of tunes to mourn that frightful day
And many a parodist rooted and whooped, cuz the oodles of posts were grand
"A credit to old AmIRight," said Pat McWilliams' fans

Oh wow, he was conversant; as a linguist he had flair
Made scholarly observations, dealt with modern day affairs
With humorous slants and dire refrains, he shook those in command
Said they, "Our errors have been spiked by Pat McWilliams' hand"

While the grumps harangued at the wit and slang of the bards who wrote each day
McWilliams showed each afternoon with something nice to say
And plenty of parodies posted by newbs have amused this gracious man
"His comments were inspirin'," said Pat McWilliams' fans

Oh, he caught the eye of Incubus; the Professor, he was stunned
He wished to sing McWilliams' work, record what he had done
Now when I wish to board a plane to fly across this land
I download Patrick's genius, shaming frisky gropes and scans

Oh, I've penned a bunch of bad mocks, punned The Unicorn on Beam
But Pat's a funnier spoofin' peep, with more insightful themes
He wrote of Phelpses, his egrets, the Rapture and Hitler, the origin of man
And with levity, longed to clone his genes, the Pat McWilliams' brand

While the church bell clangs for the Fitz's pangs from that cold November day
McWilliams posts his droll lampoons, with skill so bright displayed
His pensively questioning views are astute, and his musing is never bland
"Let's celebrate Saint Patrick's Day," say Pat McWilliams' fans

Patrick McWilliams!