Jest 'fore Christmas Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDD EEFFGHDD IIJJKKDD AALLMMDD NNOOPPDD

Father calls me William sister calls me WillA
Mother calls me Willie but the fellers call me BillA
Mighty glad I ain't a girl ruther be a boyB
Without them sashes curls an' things that's worn by FauntleroyB
Love to chawnk green apples an' go swimmin' in the lakeC
Hate to take the castor ile they give for bellyacheC
'Most all the time the whole year round there ain't no flies on meD
But jest 'fore Christmas I'm as good as I kin beD
-
Got a yeller dog named Sport sick him on the catE
First thing she knows she doesn't know where she is atE
Got a clipper sled an' when us kids goes out to slideF
'Long comes the grocery cart an' we all hook a rideF
But sometimes when the grocery man is worrited an' crossG
He reaches at us with his whip an' larrups up his hossH
An' then I laff an' holler Oh ye never teched meD
But jest 'fore Christmas I'm as good as I kin beD
-
Gran'ma says she hopes that when I git to be a manI
I'll be a missionarer like her oldest brother DanI
As was et up by the cannibuls that lives in Ceylon's IsleJ
Where every prospeck pleases an' only man is vileJ
But gran'ma she has never been to see a Wild West showK
Nor read the Life of Daniel Boone or else I guess she'd knowK
That Buff'lo Bill an' cow boys is good enough for meD
Excep' jest 'fore Christmas when I'm good as I kin beD
-
And then old Sport he hangs around so solemn like an' stillA
His eyes they seem a sayin' What's the matter little BillA
The old cat sneaks down off her perch an' wonders what's becomeL
Of them two enemies of hern that used to make things humL
But I am so perlite an' 'tend so earnestly to bizM
That mother says to father How improved our Willie isM
But father havin' been a boy hisself suspicions meD
When jest 'fore Christmas I'm as good as I kin beD
-
For Christmas with its lots an' lots of candies cakes an' toysN
Was made they say for proper kids an' not for naughty boysN
So wash yer face an' bresh yer hair an' mind yer p's and q'sO
An' don't bust out yer pantaloons and don't wear out yer shoesO
Say Yessum to the ladies an' Yessur to the menP
An' when they's company don't pass yer plate for pie againP
But thinkin' of the things yer'd like to see upon that treeD
Jest 'fore Christmas be as good as yer kin beD

Eugene Field



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