We already know so much about Golfer-In-Chief Donald Trump's inauguration this Friday: we know no one wants to go (including celebrities and politicians), we know Trump is going to speak for less than 20 minutes, and we know that 3 Doors Down only has one song that anybody knows. But there is still one vital piece of information that has eluded inauguration prognosticators entirely: will a poem be read to mark the occasion, like at the inaugurations of Bill Clinton, JFK and Obama? Or will Trump just tell America, "I'm already tired / Yes, Russia conspired / You are all fired" and be done with it?

The Independent claims that a poem by anti-modernist poet Joseph Charles MacKenzie, which premiered in The Scotsman newspaper this weekend, "has been written for Donald Trump's inauguration." This of course isn't the Charles McKenzie, who was honored by the Tampa Bay Lightning as a community hero—but rather, a pretty terrible American poet who once won an award in a Scottish International Poetry Competition. Also, his website is very comprehensive, and includes this humble mission statement: "My mission is simple: to comfort human souls through the finest, most beautiful lyric verse the world has not seen in over 100 years." No wonder he loves Trump, this is truly the biglyest poetry in history!

It's completely unclear if The Independent's report that this was "written for Donald Trump's inauguration," means this poem was officially commissioned to be read at the inauguration, or if McKenzie just took it upon himself to write this to mark the occasion, for funsies. We are guessing it's the latter, and this is not "the" inauguration poem, but we've reached out to the Trump transition team and will update if we hear back.

This poem is a tribute to Trump's Scottish roots (Trump's mother grew up on the Hebridean island of Lewis—however, Scottish people by and large loathe Trump), a tribute to "classical poetry existing throughout American history," and also a tribute to Trump's lunatic narcissism, especially the part referring to Obama ("a tyrant his ill-gotten power"), which sounds like something Trump circa-2012 would have kept in his Twitter draft folder for a rainy day. Read the whole poem below:

"Come out for the Domhnall, ye brave men and proud,

The scion of Torquil and best of MacLeod!

With purpose and strength he came down from his tower

To snatch from a tyrant his ill-gotten power.

Now the cry has gone up with a cheer from the crowd:

“Come out for the Domhnall, the best of MacLeod!”

When freedom is threatened by slavery’s chains

And voices are silenced as misery reigns,

We’ll come out for a leader whose courage is true

Whose virtues are solid and long overdue.

For, he’ll never forget us, we men of the crowd

Who elected the Domhnall, the best of MacLeod!

When crippling corruption polluted our nation

And plunged our economy into stagnation,

As self-righteous rogues took the opulent office

And plump politicians reneged on their promise

The forgotten continued to form a great crowd

That defended the Domhnall, the best of MacLeod!

The Domhnall’s a giver whilst others just take,

Ne’er gaining from that which his hands did not make.

A builder of buildings, employing good men,

He’s enriched many cities by factors of ten.

The honest and true gladly march with the crowd

Standing up for the Domhnall, the best of MacLeod!

True friend of the migrant from both far and near,

He welcomes the worthy, but guards our frontier,

Lest a murderous horde, for whom hell is the norm,

Should threaten our lives and our nation deform.

We immigrants hasten to swell the great crowd.”

Coming out for the Domhnall, the best of MacLeod!

Academe now lies dead, the old order rots,

No longer policing our words and our thoughts;

Its ignorant hirelings pretending to teach

Are backward in vision, sophomoric in speech.

Now we learnèd of mind add ourselves to the crowd

That cheers on the Domhnall, the best of MacLeod!

The black man, forgotten, in poverty dying,

The poor man, the sick man, with young children crying,

The soldier abroad and the mother who waits,

The young without work or behind prison gates,

The veterans, wounded, all welcome the crowd

That fights for the Domhnall, the best of MacLeod!

Whilst hapless old harridans flapping their traps

Teach women to look and behave like us chaps,

The Domhnall defends the defenseless forlorn;

For, a woman’s first right is the right to be born.

Now the bonnie young lassies that fly to the crowd

Have a champion in Domhnall, the best of MacLeod!

One thing is clearer than the bonnie young lassies that fly to the crowd: this poem is terrible.

A few people offered their own variations and poetic tributes as well:

I would bet all my worldly possessions that Trump can't name three poets off the top of his head, let alone has ever read a poem since grade school, but if they must keep this SAD! tradition of poetry alive, they could at least read this excellent verse at the inauguration.