He Mourned His Master Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCDCEFGF C HIJIKLDM NOPOPQPQ ILRLSTST ULILVOVW XYZYA2GA2G PYB2YGTGT PQPQC2AC2A PD2PD2PE2PE2 F2E2PE2E2E2E2E2 PIIINE2NE2 PTE2TG2TCT PCPCE2PE2P E2TH2TI2CIC J2PJ2PE2YYY E2IPIE2PE2P E2ATAE2PPP TPE2PE2IE2I K2L2E2L2E2PM2P VIVI

INTRODUCTIONA
The theme is ancient as the hillsB
With all their prehistoric gloryC
But yet of Corney and his friendD
We ve often longed to tell the storyC
And should we jar the reader s earE
Or fail to please his eye observantF
We only trust that he ll forgiveG
The bush muse and your humble servantF
-
-
-
-
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THE STORYC
-
-
Old Corney built in Deadman s GapH
A hut where mountain shades grow denserI
And there he lived for many yearsJ
A timber getter and a fencerI
And no one knew if he d a soulK
Above long sprees or split rail fencesL
Unless indeed it was his friendD
Who always kept his confidencesM
-
There was a saw pit in the rangeN
Twas owned by three and they were brothersO
And visitors to Corney s hutP
Twas seldom visited by othersO
They came because as they averredP
Old Corney licked a gent infernalQ
His yarns if I might trust their wordP
Would made the fortune of a journalQ
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In short the splitter was a cureI
Who brightened up their lives dull coursesL
And so on Sunday afternoonsR
At Corney s hut they d hang their horsesL
They d have a game of cards and smokeS
And sometimes sing which was a rum thingT
Unless in spite of legal folkS
The splitter kept a drop of somethingT
-
If as twas said he was a swellU
Before he sought these sombre rangesL
Twixt mother s arms and coffin gearI
He must have seen a world of changesL
But from his lips would never fallV
A hint of home or friends or brothersO
And if he told his tale at allV
He must have told it as another sW
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Though he was good at telling yarnsX
At listening he excelled not less soY
And greatly helped the bushman s talesZ
With yes exactly so or jes soY
In short the hut became a clubA2
Like our Assembly LegislativeG
Combining smokeroom hall and pubA2
Political and recreativeG
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Old Corney lived and Corney diedP
As we will too on some to morrowY
But not as Corney died we hopeB2
Of heart disease and rum and sorrowY
We hope to lead a married lifeG
At times the cup of comfort quaffingT
And when we leave this world of strifeG
We trust that we may die of laughingT
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One New Year s Eve they found him deadP
For rum had made his life unstableQ
They found him stretched upon his bedP
And also found upon the tableQ
The coloured portrait of a girlC2
Blue eyes of course The hair was goldenA
A faded letter and a curlC2
And well we said the theme was oldenA
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The splitter had for days been deadP
And cold before the sawyers found himD2
And none had witnessed how he diedP
Except the friend who whimpered round himD2
A noble friend and of a kindP
Who stay when other friends forsake usE2
And he at last was left behindP
To greet the rough bush undertakersE2
-
This was a season when the bushF2
Was somewhat ruled by time and distanceE2
And bushmen came and tried the worldP
And gave it best without assistanceE2
Then one might die of heart diseaseE2
And still be spared the inquest horrorsE2
And when the splitter lay at easeE2
So also did his sins and sorrowsE2
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Ole Corey s dead the bushmen saidP
He s gone at last an ne er a blunderI
And so they brought a horse and drayI
And tools to tuck the old cove underI
The funeral wended through the rangeN
And slowly round its rugged cornersE2
The reader will not think it strangeN
That Corney s friend was chief of mournersE2
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He must have thought the bushmen hardP
And of his misery unheedingT
Because they shunned his anxious eyesE2
That seemed for explanation pleadingT
At intervals his tongue would wipeG2
The jaws that seemed with anguish quakingT
As some strong hand impatientlyC
Might chide the tears for prison breakingT
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They reached by rugged ways at lastP
A desolate bush cemeteryC
Where now our tale is of the pastP
A thriving town its dead doth buryC
And where the bones of pioneersE2
Are found and thrown aside unheededP
For later sleepers blessed with tearsE2
Of many friends the graves are neededP
-
The funeral reached the bushmen s gravesE2
Where these old pioneers were sleepingT
And now while down the granite ridgeH2
The shadow of the peak was creepingT
They dug a grave beneath a gumI2
And lowered the dead as gently may beC
As Corney s mother long beforeI
Had laid him down to hush a babyC
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A bushman read the words to whichJ2
The others reverently listenedP
Some bearded lips were seen to twitchJ2
Some shaded eyes with moisture glistenedP
Perhaps this weakness was becauseE2
Their work reminded them in sorrowY
Of other burials long agoY
When friends turned in to wait the morrowY
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The boys had brought the splitter s toolsE2
And now they split and put togetherI
Four panels such as Corney madeP
To stand the stress of western weatherI
Perhaps this second weakness roseE2
From some good reason undetectedP
They may have thought of other gravesE2
Of dearer friends they left neglectedP
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Old Corney s dead he paid his billsE2
These words upon the tree were gravenA
And oft a swagman down in luckT
At Corey s mansion found a havenA
If this an explanation needsE2
We greatly fear we can t afford itP
Unless they thought of other deadP
Whose virtues they had not recordedP
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The day had crossed the homeward trackT
And as the bushmen turned to tread itP
They thought and spoke of many thingsE2
Remembered now to Corney s creditP
And strange to say above their headsE2
The kookaburra burst with laughterI
Perhaps he thought of other friendsE2
Whose virtues they remembered afterI
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But now the bushmen hurried onK2
Lest darkness in the range should find themL2
And strange to say they never sawE2
That Corney s friend had stayed behind themL2
If one had thrown a backward glanceE2
Along the rugged path they wendedP
He might have seen a darker formM2
Upon the damp cold mound extendedP
-
But soon their forms had vanished allV
And night came down the ranges fasterI
And no one saw the shadows fallV
Upon the dog that mourned his masterI

Henry Lawson



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