Poet Henry Lawson

Henry Lawson

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The Shearing Shed Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCDECFC GHIHHGJG KLHLGMGN GGMGOPOP GMGMLGLG HQMQMHMH LRLROLOL

'The ladies are coming ' the super saysA
To the shearers sweltering thereB
And 'the ladies' means in the shearing shedC
'Don't cut 'em too bad Don't swear 'D
The ghost of a pause in the shed's rough heartE
And lower is bowed each headC
And nothing is heard save a whispered wordF
And the roar of the hearing shedC
-
The tall shy rouser has lost his witsG
And his limbs are all astrayH
He leaves a fleece on the shearing boardI
And his broom in the shearer's wayH
There's a curse in store for that jackarooH
As down by the wall he slantsG
And the ringer bends with his legs askewJ
And wishes he'd patched his pantsG
-
They are girls from the city Our hearts rebelK
As we squint at their dainty feetL
And they gush and say in a girly wayH
That 'the dear little lambs are sweet'L
And Bill the ringer who'd scorned the useG
Of a childish word like 'damn'M
Would give a pound that his tongue was looseG
As he tackles a lively lambN
-
Swift thoughts of towns in coastal townsG
Or rivers and waving grassG
And a weight on our hearts that we cannon defineM
That comes as the ladies passG
But the rouser ventures a nervous digO
In the ribs of the next to himP
And Barcoo says to his pen mate 'TwigO
The style of the last un JimP
-
Jim Moonlight gives her a careless glanceG
Then he catches his breath with painM
His strong hand shakes and the sunlights danceG
As he bends to his work againM
But he's well disguised in a bristling beardL
Bronzed skin and his shearers dressG
And whatever Jim Moonlight hoped or fearedL
Were hard for his mates to guessG
-
Jim Moonlight wiping his broad white browH
Explains with a doleful smileQ
'A stitch in the side ' and he's all right now'M
And he leans on the beam a whileQ
And gazes out in the blazing noonM
On the clearing brown and bareH
She has come and gone like a breath of JuneM
In December's heat and glareH
-
The bushmen are big rough boys at heartL
With hearts of a larger growthR
But they hide those hearts with a brutal jestL
And the pain with a reckless oathR
Though Bills and Jims of the bush bard singO
Of their life loves lost or deadL
The love of a girl is a sacred thingO
Not voiced in a shearing shedL

Henry Lawson



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