The Old Camp-oven Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABABCDCD EFEFGHGH IJIJKLKL HMHMNONO PQPQRSRS ETETPUDUWe don't keep a grand piano in our hut beside the creek | A |
And I'm pretty certain Hannah couldn't bang it anyhow | B |
But we've got one box of music and I'd rather hear its squeak | A |
Than the daisiest cantata that's been fashioned up to now | B |
It's an old camp oven merely with a handle made of wire | C |
But no organ built could nearly compensate to me for it | D |
When I come off graft and find it playing tunes before the fire | C |
And I'm feeling sort of vacant but just wonder fully fit | D |
- | |
In its sizzle sizzle sizzle | E |
There's a thousand little airs | F |
And no man can sit and grizzle | E |
'Bout his troubles and his cares | F |
While the flames are gaily winding | G |
And the tea is down to brew | H |
And the old camp oven's grinding | G |
All the reels he ever knew | H |
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When the wet winds meet and whip me in the early winter nights | I |
And the hissing hailstones clip me all the way across the flat | J |
As I battle for'ards water logged toward the beckoning lights | I |
There is always there a welcome to console a chap for that | J |
For my little wife is beaming brisk and bright beside the lamp | K |
And the old camp oven's going Gosh I feel just like a kid | L |
As I peel and sluice so slippy and I hear the storm winds vamp | K |
To the singing of the oven when the missus lifts the lid | L |
- | |
There's a sizzle and a splutter | H |
And a whirr of many harps | M |
Where's the instrument can utter | H |
Such a maze of flats and sharps | M |
Not for me the great creations | N |
When the old camp oven plays | O |
'Home Sweet Home ' with variations | N |
At the end of working days | O |
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In the evenings dim and hazy stretched outside along a butt | P |
Feeling reasonably lazy blowing clouds that curl and climb | Q |
I can hear the old camp oven on the logs before the hut | P |
Ripping out a mellow chorus that just suits the place and time | Q |
If we strike it in the ranges or The Windmill turns out well | R |
I suppose there'll be some changes and I'll want to make things gee | S |
But the time will never happen when I'll be so steep a swell | R |
That the old camp oven's measure won't be melody to me | S |
- | |
'Neath its bubble bubble bubble | E |
There's the lilt of jigs and reels | T |
All the common kind of trouble | E |
That the horney handed feels | T |
Is wiped out in half a minute | P |
By the restfulness it brings | U |
And the peaceful rapture in it | D |
When the old camp oven sings | U |
Edward Dyson
(1)
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