An Old Master Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCB DEFE GHIH FEJ KCGC CK GCCC ILGL CCJC GFJF GMJM GGC CCGC| We were cartin' lathes and palin's from the slopes of Mount St Leonard | A |
| With our axles near the road bed and the mud as stiff as glue | B |
| And our bullocks weren't precisely what you'd call conditioned nicely | C |
| And meself and Messmate Mitchell had our doubts of gettin' through | B |
| - | |
| It had rained a tidy skyful in the week before we started | D |
| But our tucker bag depended on the sellin' of our load | E |
| So we punched 'em on by inches liftin' 'em across the pinches | F |
| Till we struck the final section of the worst part of the road | E |
| - | |
| We were just congratulatin' one another on the goin' | G |
| When we blundered in a pot hole right within the sight of goal | H |
| Where the bush track joins the metal Mitchell as he saw her settle | I |
| Justified his reputation at the peril of his soul | H |
| - | |
| We were in a glue pot certain red and stiff and most tenacious | F |
| Over naves and over axles waggon sittin' on the road | E |
| ''Struth ' says I 'they'll never lift her Take a shot from Hell to shift her | J |
| Nothin' left us but unyoke 'em and sling off the blessed load ' | - |
| - | |
| Now beside our scene of trouble stood a little one roomed humpy | K |
| Home of an enfeebled party by the name of Dad McGee | C |
| Daddy was I pause to mention livin' on an old age pension | G |
| Since he gave up bullock punchin' at the age of eighty three | C |
| - | |
| Startled by our exclamations Daddy hobbled from the shanty | C |
| Gazin' where the stranded waggon looked like some half foundered ship | K |
| When the state o' things he spotted 'Looks ' he says 'like you was potted ' | - |
| And he toddles up to Mitchell 'Here ' says he 'gimme that whip ' | - |
| - | |
| Well I've heard of transformations heard of fellers sort of changin' | G |
| In the face of sudden danger or some great emergency | C |
| Heard the like in song and story and in bush traditions hoary | C |
| But I nearly dropped me bundle as I looked at Dad McGee | C |
| - | |
| While we gazed he seemed to toughen as his fingers gripped the handle | I |
| His old form grew straight and supple and a light leapt in his eye | L |
| And he stepped around the waggon not with footsteps weak and laggin' | G |
| But with firm determined bearin' as he flung the whip on high | L |
| - | |
| Now he swung the leaders over while the whip lash snarled and volleyed | C |
| And they answered like one bullock strainin' to each crack and clout | C |
| But he kept his cursin' under till old Brindle made a blunder | J |
| Then I thought all Hell had hit me and the master opened out | C |
| - | |
| And the language Oh the language Seemed to me I must be dreamin' | G |
| While the wondrous words and phrases only genius could produce | F |
| Roared and rumbled fast and faster in the throat of that Old Master | J |
| Oaths and curses tipped with lightning cracklin' flames of fierce abuse | F |
| - | |
| Then we knew the man before us was a Master of our callin' | G |
| One of those great lords of language gone for ever from Out back | M |
| Heroes of an ancient order men who punched across the border | J |
| Vanished giants of the sixties puncher princes of the track | M |
| - | |
| Now we heard the timbers strainin' heard the waggon's loud complainin' | G |
| And the master cried triumphant as he swung 'em into line | G |
| As they put their shoulders to it lifted her and pulled her through it | C |
| 'That's the way we useter do it in the days o' sixty nine ' | - |
| - | |
| Near the foot of Mount St Leonard lives an old enfeebled party | C |
| Who retired from bullock punchin' at the age of eighty three | C |
| If you seek him folk will mention merely that he draws the pension | G |
| But to us he looms a Master Prince of Punchers Dad McGee | C |
Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
(1)
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