The Squatter's Baccy Famine Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABABCDDCEFEF GHGHIFFIEFEF JEJEKEEKEFEF LMLMNE ENEFEF FEFENOOFEFEF| In blackest gloom he cursed his lot | A |
| His breath was one long weary sigh | B |
| His brows were gathered in a knot | A |
| That only baccy could untie | B |
| His oldest pipe was scraped out clean | C |
| The deuce a puff was left him there | D |
| A hollow sucking sound of air | D |
| Was all he got his lips between | C |
| He only said My life is dreary | E |
| The Baccy's done he said | F |
| He said I am aweary aweary | E |
| By Jove I'm nearly dead | F |
| - | |
| The chimney piece he searched in vain | G |
| Into each pocket plunged his fist | H |
| His cheek was blanched with weary pain | G |
| His mouth awry for want of twist | H |
| He idled with his baccy knife | I |
| He had no care for daily bread | F |
| A single stick of Negro head | F |
| Would be to him the staff of life | I |
| He only said My life is dreary | E |
| The Baccy's done he said | F |
| He said I am aweary aweary | E |
| I'd most as soon be dead | F |
| - | |
| Books had no power to mend his grief | J |
| The magazines could tempt no more | E |
| Cut Gold Leaf was the only leaf | J |
| That he had cared to ponder o'er | E |
| From chair to sofa sad he swings | K |
| And then from sofa back to chair | E |
| But in the depth of his despair | E |
| Can catch no bird's eye view of things | K |
| And still he said My life is dreary | E |
| No Baccy boys he said | F |
| He said I am aweary aweary | E |
| I'd just as soon be dead | F |
| - | |
| His meals go by he knows not how | L |
| No taste in flesh or fowl or fish | M |
| There's not a dish could tempt him now | L |
| Except a cake of Caven dish | M |
| His life is but a weary drag | N |
| He cannot choose but curse and swear | E |
| - | |
| And thrust his fingers through his hair | E |
| All shaggy in the want of shag | N |
| And still he said My life is dreary | E |
| No Baccy boys he said | F |
| He said I am aweary aweary | E |
| I'd rather far be dead | F |
| - | |
| To him one end of old cheroot | F |
| Were sweetest root that ever grew | E |
| No honey were due substitute | F |
| For Our Superior Honey Dew | E |
| One little fig of Latakia | N |
| Would buy all fruits of Paradise | O |
| Prince Alfred's Mixture fetch a price | O |
| Above both Prince and Galatea | F |
| Sudden he said No more be dreary | E |
| The dray has come he said | F |
| He said I'll smoke till I am weary | E |
| And then I'll go to bed | F |
James Brunton Stephens
(1)
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