A Hyde Park Larrikin Poem Rhyme Scheme

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You may have heard of Proclus sir	A
If you have been a reader	A
And you may know a bit of her	A
Who helped the Lycian leader	A
I have my doubts the head you sport	B
Now mark me don't get crusty	C
Is hardly of the classic sort	B
Your lore I think is fusty	B
	-
Most likely you have stuck to tracts	D
Flushed through with flaming curses	E
I judge you neighbour by your acts	D
So don't you damn my verses	F
	-
But to my theme The Asian sage	G
Whose name above I mention	H
Lived in the pitchy Pagan age	G
A life without pretension	H
	-
He may have worshipped gods like Zeus	I
And termed old Dis a master	A
But then he had a strong excuse	I
He never heard a pastor	A
	-
However it occurs to me	C
That had he cut Demeter	A
And followed you or followed me	C
He wouldn't have been sweeter	A
	-
No doubt with shepherds of this time	J
He's not the clean potato	B
Because excuse me for my rhyme	J
He pinned his faith to Plato	B
	-
But these are facts you can't deny	K
My pastor smudged and sooty	C
His mind was like a summer sky	K
He lived a life of beauty	C
	-
To lift his brothers' thoughts above	L
This earth he used to labour	M
His heart was luminous with love	L
He didn't wound his neighbour	M
	-
To him all men were just the same	N
He never foamed at altars	O
Although he lived ere Moody came	N
Ere Sankey dealt in psalters	O
	-
The Lycian sage my reverend sir	M
Had not your chances ample	P
But after all I must prefer	M
His perfect pure example	P
	-
You having read the Holy Writ	B
The Book the angels foster	M
Say have you helped us on a bit	B
You overfed impostor	M
	-
What have you done to edify	K
You clammy chapel tinker	M
What act like his of days gone by	K
The grand old Asian thinker	M
	-
Is there no deed of yours at all	Q
With beauty shining through it	B
Ah no your heart reveals its gall	Q
On every side I view it	B
A blatant bigot with a big	R
Fat heavy fetid carcass	S
You well become your greasy rig	R
You're not a second Arcas	S
What sort of gospel do you preach	T
What Bible is your Bible	P
There's worse than wormwood in your speech	T
You livid living libel	P
	-
How many lives are growing gray	M
Through your depraved behaviour	M
I tell you plainly every day	M
You crucify the Saviour	M
	-
Some evil spirit curses you	U
Your actions never vary	M
You cannot point your finger to	U
One fact to the contrary	M
	-
You seem to have a wicked joy	V
In your malicious labour	M
Endeavouring daily to destroy	V
The neighbour's love for neighbour	V
	-
The brutal curses you eject	B
Make strong men dread to hear you	U
The world outside your petty sect	B
Feels sick when it is near you	U
	-
No man who shuns that little hole	W
You call your tabernacle	P
Can have you shriek a ransomed soul	W
He wears the devil's shackle	P
	-
And hence the Papist by your clan	X
Is dogged with words inhuman	H
Because he loves that friend of man	X
The highest type of woman	H
	-
Because he has that faith which sees	S
Before the high Creator	V
A Virgin pleading on her knees	S
A shining Mediator	V
	-
God help the souls who grope in night	B
Who in your ways have trusted	B
I've said enough the more I write	B
The more I feel disgusted	B
	-
The warm soft air is tainted through	U
With your pernicious leaven	H
I would not live one hour with you	U
In your peculiar heaven	H
	-
Now mount your musty pulpit thump	Y
And muddle flat clodhoppers	S
And let some long eared booby hump	Y
The plate about for coppers	S
	-
At priest and parson spit and bark	Z
And shake your church with curses	S
You bitter blackguard of the dark	Z
With this I close my verses	S

Henry Kendall

A Hyde Park Larrikin Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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