Seventy-nine Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABB CCBAB DDEE FFGG HHII AAEE JJAA KKFF CCEE LLAMA NNOO

Know me next time when you see me won't you old smartyA
Oh I mean YOU old figger head just the same partyA
Take out your pensivil d n you sharpen it doB
Any complaints to make Lots of 'em one of 'em's YOUB
-
You who are YOU anyhow goin' round in that sneakin' wayC
Never in jail before was you old blatherskite sayC
Look at it don't it look pooty Oh grin and be d d to you doB
But if I had you this side o' that gratin ' I'd just make it livelyA
for youB
-
How did I get in here Well what 'ud you give to knowD
'Twasn't by sneakin' round where I hadn't no call to goD
'Twasn't by hangin' round a spyin' unfortnet menE
Grin but I'll stop your jaw if ever you do that agenE
-
Why don't you say suthin blast you Speak your mind if you dareF
Ain't I a bad lot sonny Say it and call it squareF
Hain't got no tongue hey hev ye Oh guard here's a little swellG
A cussin' and swearin' and yellin' and bribin' me not to tellG
-
There I thought that 'ud fetch ye And you want to know my nameH
Seventy nine they call me but that is their little gameH
For I'm werry highly connected as a gent sir can understandI
And my family hold their heads up with the very furst in the landI
-
For 'twas all sir a put up job on a pore young man like meA
And the jury was bribed a puppos and at furst they couldn't agreeA
And I sed to the judge sez I Oh grin it's all right my sonE
But you're a werry lively young pup and you ain't to be played uponE
-
Wot's that you got tobacco I'm cussed but I thought 'twas a tractJ
Thank ye A chap t'other day now lookee this is a factJ
Slings me a tract on the evils o' keepin' bad companyA
As if all the saints was howlin' to stay here along o' weA
-
No I hain't no complaints Stop yes do you see that chapK
Him standin' over there a hidin' his eyes in his capK
Well that man's stumick is weak and he can't stand the pris'n fareF
For the coffee is just half beans and the sugar it ain't nowhereF
-
Perhaps it's his bringin' up but he's sickenin' day by dayC
And he doesn't take no food and I'm seein' him waste awayC
And it isn't the thing to see for whatever he's been and doneE
Starvation isn't the plan as he's to be saved uponE
-
For he cannot rough it like me and he hasn't the stamps I guessL
To buy him his extry grub outside o' the pris'n messL
And perhaps if a gent like you with whom I've been sorter freeA
Would thank you But say look here Oh blast it don't give itM
to MEA
-
Don't you give it to me now don't ye don't ye DON'TN
You think it's a put up job so I'll thank ye sir if you won'tN
But hand him the stamps yourself why he isn't even my palO
And if it's a comfort to you why I don't intend that he shallO

Bret Harte



Rate:
(1)



Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme

Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation


Write your comment about Seventy-nine poem by Bret Harte


 

Recent Interactions*

This poem was read 1 times,

This poem was added to the favorite list by 0 members,

This poem was voted by 0 members.

(* Interactions only in the last 7 days)

New Poems

Popular Poets