The Nine Little Goblins Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABABCC DED D FGFGHH IJI II KLKLM NONOPP BQBQRR ABSBD

They all climbed up on a high board fenceA
Nine little Goblins with green glass eyesB
Nine little Goblins that had no senseA
And couldn't tell coppers from cold mince piesB
And they all climbed up on the fence and satC
And I asked them what they were staring atC
-
And the first one said as he scratched his headD
With a queer little arm that reached out of his earE
And rasped its claws in his hair so redD
'This is what this little arm is fer '-
And he scratched and stared and the next one saidD
'How on earth do you scratch your head '-
-
And he laughed like the screech of a rusty hingeF
Laughed and laughed till his face grew blackG
And when he choked with a final twingeF
Of his stifling laughter he thumped his backG
With a fist that grew on the end of his tailH
Till the breath came back to his lips so paleH
-
And the third little Goblin leered round at meI
And there were no lids on his eyes at allJ
And he clucked one eye and he says says heI
'What is the style of your socks this fall '-
And he clapped his heels and I sighed to seeI
That he had hands where his feet should beI
-
Then a bald faced Goblin gray and grimK
Bowed his head and I saw him slipL
His eyebrows off as I looked at himK
And paste them over his upper lipL
And then he moaned in remorseful painM
'Would Ah would I'd me brows again '-
-
And then the whole of the Goblin bandN
Rocked on the fence top to and froO
And clung in a long row hand in handN
Singing the songs that they used to knowO
Singing the songs that their grandsires sungP
In the goo goo days of the Goblin tongueP
-
And ever they kept their green glass eyesB
Fixed on me with a stony stareQ
Till my own grew glazed with a dread surmiseB
And my hat whooped up on my lifted hairQ
And I felt the heart in my breast snap toR
As you've heard the lid of a snuff box doR
-
And they sang 'You're asleep There is no board fenceA
And never a Goblin with green glass eyesB
'Tis only a vision the mind inventsS
After a supper of cold mince piesB
And you're doomed to dream this way ' they saidD
' And you sha'n't wake up till you're clean plum dead '-

James Whitcomb Riley



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