Where's The Poker? Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis


The poker lost poor Susan storm'dA
And all the rites of rage perform'dA
As scolding crying swearing sweatingB
Abusing fidgetting and frettingB
Nothing but villany and thievingB
Good heavens what a world we live inC
If I don't find it in the morningB
I'll surely give my master warningB
He'd better far shut up his doorsD
Than keep such good for nothing whoresD
For wheresoe'er their trade they driveE
We vartuous bodies cannot thriveE
Well may poor Susan grunt and groanF
Misfortunes never come aloneF
But tread each other's heels in throngsG
For the next day she lost the tongsH
The salt box colander and potI
Soon shar'd the same untimely lotI
In vain she vails and wages spentJ
On new ones for the new ones wentJ
There'd been she swore some dev'l or witch inC
To rob or plunder all the kitchenK
One night she to her chamber creptL
Where for a month she had not sleptL
Her master being to her seemingB
A better play fellow than dreamingB
Curse on the author of these wrongsG
In her own bed she found the tongsH
Hang Thomas for an idle jokerM
In her own bed she found the pokerM
With the salt box pepper box and kettleN
With all the culinary metalN
Be warn'd ye fair by Susans crossesO
Keep chaste and guard yourselves from lossesP
For if young girls delight in kissingB
No wonder that the poker's missingB

Christopher Smart


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