Some Of Farmer Stebbin's Opinions Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCCDEFE GCHCECCC IEJEKLMLCLNL EOPOQORO RSCSTEUE RCVCCLCL WCECXER RLWLYCZC A2VRVB2EEE C2VCVD2EREKCKC YCCCCCRC E2CF2CTCACRECE CEREG2EH2| No Parson 'tain't been in my style | A |
| Nor none ov my relations | B |
| Tew dig about the gnarly roots | C |
| Ov prophetic spekkleations | C |
| Tew see what Malachai meant | D |
| Or Solomon was hintin' | E |
| Or reound what jog o' Futur's road | F |
| Isaiah was a squintin' | E |
| - | |
| I've lost my rest a keepin' out | G |
| The hogs from our cowcumbers | C |
| But never lost a wink you bet | H |
| By wrastlin' over Numbers | C |
| I never took no comfort when | E |
| The year was bald with losses | C |
| A spekkleatin' on them chaps | C |
| That rode them varus hosses | C |
| - | |
| It never gave my soul a boost | I |
| When grief an' it was matin' | E |
| Tew figger out that that thar Pope | J |
| Wus reely twins with Satan | E |
| I took no stock in countin' up | K |
| How menny hed ov cattle | L |
| From Egypt's ranches Moses drove | M |
| I never fit a battle | L |
| On p'ints that frequently gave rise | C |
| Tew pious spat an' grumble | L |
| An' makes the brethren clinch an' yell | N |
| In spiritooal rough an' tumble | L |
| - | |
| I never bet on Paul agin | E |
| The argyments ov Peter | O |
| I never made the good old Book | P |
| A kind ov moral teeter | O |
| Tew pass a choreless hour away | Q |
| An' get the evenin' over | O |
| I swallered it jest as it stood | R |
| From cover clar tew cover | O |
| - | |
| Hain't had no time tew disputate | R |
| Except with axe an' arm | S |
| With stump an' rampike and with stuns | C |
| Upon my half clar'd farm | S |
| An' when sech argyments as them | T |
| Fill six days out ov seven | E |
| A man on Sabbath wants tew crawl | U |
| By quiet ways tew heaven | E |
| - | |
| Again he gets the waggon out | R |
| An' hitches up the sorrels | C |
| An' rides ten miles tew meetin' he | V |
| Ain't braced for pious quarrels | C |
| No sir he ain't that waggon rolls | C |
| From corduroy to puddle | L |
| An' that thar farmer gets his brains | C |
| Inter an easy muddle | L |
| - | |
| His back is stiff from six days' toil | W |
| So God takes hold an' preaches | C |
| In boughs ov rustlin' maple an' | E |
| In whisperin' leaves ov beeches | C |
| Sez He tew that thar farmin' chap | X |
| Likewise tew the old woman | E |
| 'I guess I'm built tew comprehend | R |
| That you an' her be's human ' | - |
| - | |
| 'So jest take hold on this har day | R |
| Recowperate yer muscle | L |
| Let up a mite this day on toil | W |
| 'Taint made for holy bustle | L |
| Let them old sorrels jog along | Y |
| With mighty slack like traces | C |
| Half dreamin' es my sunbeams fleck | Z |
| Their venerable faces | C |
| - | |
| 'I guess they did their share ov work | A2 |
| Since Monday's dew was hoary | V |
| Don't try tew lick 'em tew a trot | R |
| Upon the road tew Glory | V |
| Jest let 'em laze a spell whar thick | B2 |
| My lily buds air blowin' | E |
| An' whar My trees cast shadders on | E |
| My silver creeklet flowin' | E |
| - | |
| 'An' while their red rough tongues push back | C2 |
| The stems ov reed an' lily | V |
| Jest let 'em dream ov them thar days | C |
| When they was colt an' filly | V |
| An' spekkleate es fetlock deep | D2 |
| They eye my cool creek flowin' | E |
| On whar I loosed it from My hand | R |
| Where be its crisp waves goin' | E |
| An' how in snow white lily cup | K |
| I built them yaller fires | C |
| An' bronz'd them reeds that rustle up | K |
| Agin the waggon tires | C |
| - | |
| 'An' throw a forrard eye along | Y |
| Where that bush roadway passes | C |
| A spekkleating on the chance | C |
| Ov nibbling road side grasses | C |
| Jest let them lines rest on thar necks | C |
| Restrain yer moral twitters | C |
| An' paste this note inside yer hat | R |
| I talk tew all My critters | C |
| - | |
| 'Be they on four legs or on two | E2 |
| In broadcloth scales or feathers | C |
| No matter what may be the length | F2 |
| Ov all their mental tethers | C |
| In ways mayn't suit the minds ov them | T |
| That thinks themselves thar betters | C |
| I talk tew them in simple style | A |
| In words ov just three letters | C |
| Spell'd out in lily blow an' reed | R |
| In soft winds on them blowin' | E |
| In juicy grass by wayside streams | C |
| In coolin' waters flowin' | E |
| - | |
| 'An' so jest let them sorrels laze | C |
| My ripplin' silver creek in | E |
| They're listenin' in thar own dumb way | R |
| An' I Myself am speakin' | E |
| Friend Stebbens don't you feel your soul | G2 |
| In no sort ov dejection | E |
| You'll get tew meetin' quick enough | H2 |
| In time for the collection ' | - |
Isabella Valancy Crawford
(1)
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