Picnic-time Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis


It's June ag'in an' in my soul I feel the fillin' joyA
That's sure to come this time o' year to every little boyA
For every June the Sunday schools at picnics may be seenB
Where fields beyont the swellin' floods stand dressed in livin' greenB
Where little girls are skeered to death with spiders bugs and antsC
An' little boys get grass stains on their go to meetin' pantsC
It's June ag'in an' with it all what happiness is mineD
There's goin' to be a picnic an' I'm goin' to jineD
One year I jined the Baptists an' goodness how it rainedE
But grampa says that that's the way baptizo is explainedE
And once I jined the 'Piscopils an' had a heap o' funD
But the boss of all the picnics was the PresbyteriunD
They had so many puddin's sallids sandwidges an' piesF
That a feller wisht his stummick was as hungry as his eyesF
Oh yes the eatin' Presbyteriuns give yer is so fineD
That when they have a picnic you bet I'm goin' to jineD
But at this time the Methodists have special claims on meG
For they're goin' to give a picnic on the st D VG
Why should a liberal universalist like me objectH
To share the joys of fellowship with every friendly sectH
However het'rodox their articles of faith elsewise may beG
Their doctrine of fried chick'n is a savin' grace to meG
So on the st of June the weather bein' fineD
They're goin' to give a picnic and I'm goin' to jineD

Eugene Field


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