Chore Time. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCB DEFE GHIH JKJK LMLM NONP QRSR TUTU VWVW XYXY ZA2ZA2 B2C2B2C2 D2E2D2E2 F2G2F2G2

When I'm at gran'dad's on the farmA
I hear along 'bout six o'clockB
Just when I'm feelin' snug an' warmC
Ho Bobby come and feed your stockB
-
I jump an' get into my clothesD
It's dark as pitch an' shivers runE
All up my back Now I supposeF
Not many boys would think this funE
-
But when we get out to the barnG
The greedy pigs begin to squealH
An' I throw in the yellow cornI
A bushel basket to the mealH
-
Then I begin to warm right upJ
I whistle Yankee Doodle throughK
An' wrastle with the collie pupJ
And sometimes gran'dad whistles tooK
-
The cow shed door it makes a dinL
Each time we swing it open wideM
I run an' flash the lantern inL
There stand the shorthorns side by sideM
-
Their breathin' makes a sort of cloudN
Above their heads there's no frost hereO
My beauties gran'dad says out loudN
You'll get your breakfasts never fearP
-
When up I climb into the loftQ
To fill their racks with clover hayR
Their eyes all sleepy like and softS
A heap of nice things seem to sayR
-
The red ox shakes his curly headT
An' turns on me a solemn faceU
I know he's awful glad his shedT
Is such a warm and smelly placeU
-
An' last of all the stable bigV
With harness hanging on each doorW
I always want to dance a jigV
On that old musty dusty floorW
-
It seems so good to be aliveX
An' tendin' to the sturdy graysY
The sorrels and old Prince that's fiveX
An' Lightfoot with her coaxing waysY
-
My gran'dad tells me she is mineZ
An' I'm that proud I braid her maneA2
An' smooth her sides until they shineZ
An' do my best to make her vainA2
-
When we have measured oats for allB2
Have slapped the grays upon the flanksC2
An' tried to pat the sorrels tallB2
An' heard them whinny out their thanksC2
-
We know it's breakfast time and goD2
Out past the yellow stacks of strawE2
Across the creek that used to flowD2
But won't flow now until a thawE2
-
Behind the trees the sky is pinkF2
The snow drifts by in fat white flakesG2
My gran'dad says Well Bob I thinkF2
There comes a smell of buckwheat cakesG2

Jean Blewett



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About Chore Time.

Chore Time. is a poem by Jean Blewett. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.



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