Waiting For Water Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABABCDCCD CECEFGFFG FHFHICIIC FJFJKIKKI CHCHCGCCG GLGLMNMMN GOGOIPIIP GGGGFGFFG CCCCCCCCC IQIQMGMMG GGGGCRCCR CICICGCCG FMFMFDFFD'Twas old Flynn the identity told us | A |
That the creek always ran pretty high | B |
But that fossicking veteran sold us | A |
And he lied as his quality lie | B |
Through a tangle of ranges and ridges | C |
Down a track that is blazed with our hide | D |
Over creeks minus crossings and bridges | C |
High and low mere impertinent midges | C |
Trying falls with the mighty Divide | D |
- | |
We came hauling the boxes and stampers | C |
Or just nipping them in with a winch | E |
Now and then in unfortunate scampers | C |
Missing smash by the eighth of an inch | E |
Round the spurs very daintily crawling | F |
With one team pulling out in a row | G |
And another lot heavenward hauling | F |
Lest the whole bag of tricks should go sprawling | F |
Into regions unheard of below | G |
- | |
We came through with the shanks and the shafting | F |
And the frames and the wonderful wheel | H |
Then we put in a month of hard grafting | F |
Ere we nailed down the last scrap of deal | H |
She beat true and with scarce a vibration | I |
And we voted her queen of the mills | C |
And a push from the wide desolation | I |
Drifted in to our jollification | I |
When her drumming was heard in the hills | C |
- | |
Now the discs by the cam shaft are rusting | F |
And the stamps in the boxes are still | J |
And a silence that's deep and disgusting | F |
Seems to hang like a pall on the mill | J |
Just a fortnight she ran then she rested | K |
And we've little to do but complain | I |
For a bird in the feed pipe has nested | K |
And we've spent every stiver invested | K |
And are praying for tucker and rain | I |
- | |
Billy's Creek theme of eloquent fables | C |
Drips like sweat on the breast of the wheel | H |
And the blankets are dry on the tables | C |
And the sluice box is warped like an eel | H |
Sudden dust clouds run lunatic races | C |
In the red rocky bed down below | G |
And the porcupine scrambles in places | C |
Where Flinn swears by the faith he embraces | C |
Fourteen inches of water should flow | G |
- | |
For a time we were proof against sorrow | G |
And we harboured a cheerful belief | L |
In the plenteous rains of to morrow | G |
As we belted away at the reef | L |
We piled quartz in the paddocks and hopper | M |
And the pack horse came in once a week | N |
Now our credit is not worth a copper | M |
At the township and highly improper | M |
Is the language the storekeepers speak | N |
- | |
We no longer talk brightly or snivel | G |
Of our luck but we loaf very hard | O |
Too disgusted to care to be civil | G |
And too lazy to look at a card | O |
Only George finds some slight consolation | I |
Crushing prospects a couple a day | P |
And then proving by multiplication | I |
How much metal is in the formation | I |
And the 'divvies' she'll probably pay | P |
- | |
But our leisure is qualified slightly | G |
By the cattle from over the Fly | G |
Who have taken to pegging out nightly | G |
In our limited water supply | G |
And the snakes have assisted in keeping | F |
Things alive for the man you'll agree | G |
Will be spry who may find he's been sleeping | F |
With a tiger or chance on one creeping | F |
In the water he wanted for tea | G |
- | |
Though our sweltering sky never changes | C |
Squatter Clark up at Crowfoot complains | C |
That prospectors out over the ranges | C |
Have been chased out of camp by the rains | C |
Veal the Methodist preacher at Spence's | C |
Who the Cousin Jacks say is 'some tuss' | C |
As a rain making parson commences | C |
To enlarge on our sins and offences | C |
And to blame all his failures on us | C |
- | |
We don't go to his church down the mountain | I |
Seven miles is a wearisome trot | Q |
With the glass playing up like a fountain | I |
And the prayers correspondingly hot | Q |
So on Sunday each suffering sinner | M |
Has a simple convivial spree | G |
A roast porcupine maybe for dinner | M |
For we daily grow thinner and thinner | M |
On the week's bread and treacle and tea | G |
- | |
We've been scared too of late by Golightly | G |
Him who kept up his chin best of all | G |
And predicted with confidence nightly | G |
Heavy rains that neglected to fall | G |
And enlarged on the sure indications | C |
While we listened and wearily groaned | R |
Of tremendous climatic sensations | C |
Fearful tempests and great inundations | C |
That it happened were always postponed | R |
- | |
He's gone daft through our many reverses | C |
Or the sun has got on to his brain | I |
For he cowers all day and he curses | C |
To a fretful and wearing refrain | I |
And at midnight he dolefully screeches | C |
In the gloom of the desolate mill | G |
Or he goes in his shirt making speeches | C |
To the man in the moon whom he reaches | C |
From the summit of Poverty Hill | G |
- | |
So we're waiting and watching and longing | F |
With an impotent bitter desire | M |
And new troubles and old ones come thronging | F |
Drought and fever and famine and fire | M |
And we know our misfortunes reviewing | F |
All the pangs that in Hades betide | D |
Where the damned sit eternally stewing | F |
And through days never ending are suing | F |
For the water that's ever denied | D |
Edward Dyson
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