Prof Vere De Blaw Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEF GGHHIIDDJJ KKEELMNNOO EEPPQQRRSS FTCCFFEEUU VVFFEEFFWX PPOOFFYYHH ZZEEOOFFA2A2 B2B2YYA2A2FFC2C2 D2D2FFMME2F2G2G2 H2H2EEYYIII2I2| Achievin' sech distinction with his moddel tabble dote | A |
| Ez to make his Red Hoss Mountain restauraw a place uv note | A |
| Our old friend Casey innovated somewhat round the place | B |
| In hopes he would ameliorate the sufferin's uv the race | B |
| 'Nd uv the many features Casey managed to import | C |
| The most important wuz a Steenway gran' pianny fort | C |
| An' bein' there wuz nobody could play upon the same | D |
| He telegraffed to Denver 'nd a real perfesser came | D |
| The last an' crownin' glory uv the Casey restauraw | E |
| Wuz that tenderfoot musicianer Perfesser Vere de Blaw | F |
| - | |
| His hair wuz long an' dishybill an' he had a yaller skin | G |
| An' the absence uv a collar made his neck look powerful thin | G |
| A sorry man he wuz to see az mebby you'd surmise | H |
| But the fire uv inspiration wuz a blazin' in his eyes | H |
| His name wuz Blanc wich same is Blaw for that's what Casey said | I |
| An' Casey passed the French ez well ez any Frenchie bred | I |
| But no one ever reckoned that it really wuz his name | D |
| An' no one ever asked him how or why or whence he came | D |
| Your ancient history is a thing the Coloradan hates | J |
| An' no one asks another what his name wuz in the States | J |
| - | |
| At evenin' when the work wuz done an' the miners rounded up | K |
| At Casey's to indulge in keerds or linger with the cup | K |
| Or dally with the tabble dote in all its native glory | E |
| Perfessor Vere de Blaw discoursed his music repertory | E |
| Upon the Steenway gran' piannyfort the wich wuz sot | L |
| In the hallway near the kitchen a warm but quiet spot | M |
| An' when De Blaw's environments induced the proper pride | N |
| Wich gen'rally wuz whiskey straight with seltzer on the side | N |
| He throwed his soulful bein' into opry airs 'nd things | O |
| Wich bounded to the ceilin' like he'd mesmerized the strings | O |
| - | |
| Oh you that live in cities where the gran' piannies grow | E |
| An' primy donnies round up it's little that you know | E |
| Uv the hungerin' an' the yearnin' wich us miners an' the rest | P |
| Feel for the songs we used to hear before we moved out West | P |
| Yes memory is a pleasant thing but it weakens mighty quick | Q |
| It kind uv dries an' withers like the windin' mountain crick | Q |
| That beautiful an' singin' songs goes dancin' to the plains | R |
| So long ez it is fed by snows an' watered by the rains | R |
| But uv that grace uv lovin' rains 'nd mountain snows bereft | S |
| Its bleachin' rocks like dummy ghosts is all its memory left | S |
| - | |
| The toons wich the perfesser would perform with sech eclaw | F |
| Would melt the toughest mountain gentleman I ever saw | T |
| Sech touchin' opry music ez the Trovytory sort | C |
| The sollum Mizer Reery an' the thrillin' Keely Mort | C |
| Or sometimes from Lee Grond Dooshess a trifle he would play | F |
| Or morsoze from a' opry boof to drive dull care away | F |
| Or feelin' kind uv serious he'd discourse somewhat in C | E |
| The wich he called a' opus whatever that may be | E |
| But the toons that fetched the likker from the critics in the crowd | U |
| Wuz not the high toned ones Perfesser Vere de Blaw allowed | U |
| - | |
| 'T wuz Dearest May an' Bonnie Doon an' the ballard uv Ben Bolt | V |
| Ez wuz regarded by all odds ez Vere de Blaw's best holt | V |
| Then there wuz Darlin' Nellie Gray an' Settin' on the Stile | F |
| An' Seein' Nellie Home an' Nancy Lee 'nd Annie Lisle | F |
| An' Silver Threads among the Gold an' The Gal that Winked at Me | E |
| An' Gentle Annie Nancy Till an' The Cot beside the Sea | E |
| Your opry airs is good enough for them ez likes to pay | F |
| Their money for the truck ez can't be got no other way | F |
| But opry to a miner is a thin an' holler thing The | W |
| music that he pines for is the songs he used to sing | X |
| - | |
| One evenin' down at Casey's De Blaw wuz at his best | P |
| With four fingers uv old Wilier run concealed beneath his vest | P |
| The boys wuz settin' all around discussin' folks an' things | O |
| 'Nd I had drawed the necessary keerds to fill on kings | O |
| Three fingered Hoover kind uv leaned acrosst the bar to say | F |
| If Casey'd liquidate right off he'd liquidate next day | F |
| A sperrit uv contentment wuz a broodin' all around | Y |
| Onlike the other sperrits wich in restauraws abound | Y |
| When suddenly we heerd from yonder kitchen entry rise | H |
| A toon each ornery galoot appeared to recognize | H |
| - | |
| Perfesser Vere de Blaw for once eschewed his opry ways | Z |
| An' the remnants uv his mind went back to earlier happier days | Z |
| An' grappled like an' wrassled with a' old familiar air | E |
| The wich we all uv us had heern ez you have everywhere | E |
| Stock still we stopped some in their talk uv politics an' things | O |
| I in my unobtrusive attempt to fill on kings | O |
| 'Nd Hoover leanin' on the bar an' Casey at the till | F |
| We all stopped short an' held our breaths ez a feller sometimes will | F |
| An' sot there more like bumps on logs than healthy husky men | A2 |
| Ez the memories uv that old old toon come sneakin' back again | A2 |
| - | |
| You've guessed it No you hav n't for it wuzn't that there song | B2 |
| Uv the home we'd been away from an' had hankered for so long | B2 |
| No sir it wuzn't Home Sweet Home though it's always heard around | Y |
| Sech neighborhoods in wich the home that is sweet home is found | Y |
| And ez for me I seemed to see the past come back again | A2 |
| And hear the deep drawed sigh my sister Lucy uttered when | A2 |
| Her mother asked her if she 'd practised her two hours that day | F |
| Wich if she hadn't she must go an' do it right away | F |
| The homestead in the States 'nd all its memories seemed to come | C2 |
| A floatin' round about me with that magic lumty tum | C2 |
| - | |
| And then uprose a stranger wich had struck the camp that night | D2 |
| His eyes wuz sot an' fireless 'nd his face wuz spookish white | D2 |
| 'Nd he sez Oh how I suffer there is nobody kin say | F |
| Onless like me he's wrenched himself from home an' friends away | F |
| To seek surcease from sorrer in a fur seclooded spot | M |
| Only to find alars too late the wich surcease is not | M |
| Only to find that there air things that somehow seem to live | E2 |
| For nothin' in the world but jest the misery they give | F2 |
| I've travelled eighteen hundred miles but that toon has got here first | G2 |
| I'm done I'm blowed I welcome death an' bid it do its worst | G2 |
| - | |
| Then like a man whose mind wuz sot on yieldin' to his fate | H2 |
| He waltzed up to the counter an' demanded whiskey straight | H2 |
| Wich havin' got outside uv both the likker and the door | E |
| We never seen that stranger in the bloom uv health no more | E |
| But some months later what the birds had left uv him wuz found | Y |
| Associated with a tree some distance from the ground | Y |
| And Husky Sam the coroner that set upon him said | I |
| That two things wuz apparent namely first deceast wuz dead | I |
| And second previously had got involved beyond all hope | I2 |
| In a knotty complication with a yard or two uv rope | I2 |
Eugene Field
(1)
Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about Prof Vere De Blaw poem by Eugene Field
Best Poems of Eugene Field