The Oleomargarine Man Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEEFG CCHHIIJJHHHKKJJHHH HHLLHHHHMMN CCH OOPPQQRRCCHHHHC

Once in the county of MarinA
Where milk is sold to purchase ginA
Renowned for butter and renownedB
For fourteen ounces to the poundB
A bull stood watching every turnC
Of Mr Wilson with a churnC
As that deigning worthy stalkedD
About him eying as he walkedD
El Toro's sleek and silken hideE
His neck his flank and all besideE
Thinking with secret joy 'I'll spreadF
That mammal on a slice of bread 'G
-
Soon Mr Wilson's keen concernC
To get the creature in his churnC
Unhorsed his caution made him blindH
To the fell vigor of bullkindH
Till filled with valor to the teethI
He drew his dasher from its sheathI
And bravely brandished it the whileJ
He smiled a dark portentous smileJ
A deep sepulchral smile a wideH
And open smile which at his sideH
The churn to copy vainly triedH
A smile so like the dawn of doomK
That all the field was palled in gloomK
And all the trees within a mileJ
As tribute to that awful smileJ
Made haste with loyalty discreetH
To fling their shadows at his feetH
Then rose his battle cry 'I'll spreadH
That mammal on a slice of bread '-
-
To such a night the day had turnedH
That Taurus dimly was discernedH
He wore so meek and grave an airL
It seemed as if engaged in prayerL
This thunderbolt incarnate hadH
No thought of anything that's badH
This concentrated earthquake stoodH
And gave his mind to being goodH
Lightly and low he drew his breathM
This magazine of sudden deathM
All this the thrifty Wilson's glanceN
Took in and crying 'Now's my chance '-
Upon the bull he sprang amainC
To put him in his churn AgainC
Rang out his battle yell 'I'll spreadH
That mammal on a slice of bread '-
-
Sing Muse that battle royal singO
The deeds that made the region ringO
The blows the bellowing the criesP
The dust that darkened all the skiesP
The thunders of the contest allQ
Nay none of these things did befallQ
A yell there was a rush no moreR
El Toro tranquil as beforeR
Still stood there basking in the sunC
Nor of his legs had shifted oneC
Stood there and conjured up his cudH
And meekly munched it Scenes of bloodH
Had little charm for him His headH
He merely nodded as he saidH
'I've spread that butterman uponC
A slice of Southern Oregon '-

Ambrose Bierce



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