Clive Smythe's the name - so memorable, it rhymes
You might have read my column in The Times
Art Critic is the game
Watch me praise, watch me blame
Be it masterpiece or some pretentious crime
If I seem a little smug, somewhat aloof
Well, I am a cut above, and here's the proof
I was educated well at the Slade and Camberwell
In the finals all my scores were through the roof!
If opinions are required, I'm never shy
I can look the struggling artist in the eye
And with considerable brain
(Yet sensitive to his pain)
I puff out my chest, and give the fearful cry -
I condemn you!
I reject you!
What piffle - what drivel - I disrespect you!
You call this art?
I call it doodle
I've seen more talent from my mother's poodle!
You are exposed!
You are forsaken!
You stole your cheap ideas from Francis Bacon
Your aesthetics I deplore
It might help matters if you learned to drawòÀæ
I was there when Jackson Pollock did his dribbles
And I swore he was a genius - no quibbles
And if Rothko paints a square
And calls it Art, I'll be there
And of course there is the free wine and the nibbles
As a critic I no stranger to bravado
Great art may be a slice of avocado
Why that cow of Damien Hirst
That some said was the worst
I said was right up there with Leonardo
If opinions are required I'm never shy
I can look the struggling artist in the eye
And with fatherly concern
That he heeds my words and learn
I puff out my chest and give the fearful cry -
I condemn you!
I abhor you!
Criminal! Imposter!
I deplore you!
You call this art? I call it mush
You shouldn't be entrusted with a brush
O where's the candor?
O where's the wit?
It's like a toddler playing with his shit
Is this impasto or melted cheese?
Have they started giving paints to chimpanzees?
Don't waste my time!
Don't waste my time!
Don't waste my time!