Banty Tim Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AB BCACACAC CCCCDCDC ACDCBBED ECCCCEFB BCBCGHEH EBEBIBJB AECEEBHB

Remarks of Sergeant Tilmon Joy to The White Man's CommitteeA
of Spunky Point IllinoisB
-
-
I reckon I git your drift gentsB
You 'low the boy sha'n't stayC
This is a white man's countryA
You're Dimocrats you sayC
And whereas and seein' and whereforeA
The times bein' all out o' j'intC
The nigger has got to moseyA
From the limits o' Spunky P'intC
-
Le's reason the thing a minuteC
I'm an old fashioned Dimocrat tooC
Though I laid my politics out o' the wayC
For to keep till the war was throughC
But I come back here allowin'D
To vote as I used to doC
Though it gravels me like the devil to trainD
Along o' sich fools as youC
-
Now dog my cats ef I kin seeA
In all the light of the dayC
What you've got to do with the questionD
Ef Tim shill go or stayC
And furder than that I give noticeB
Ef one of you tetches the boyB
He kin check his trunks to a warmer climeE
Than he'll find in IllanoyD
-
Why blame your hearts jest hear meE
You know that ungodly dayC
When our left struck Vicksburg Heights how rippedC
And torn and tattered we layC
When the rest retreated I stayed behindC
Fur reasons sufficient to meE
With a rib caved in and a leg on a strikeF
I sprawled on that cursed glaceeB
-
Lord how the hot sun went for usB
And br'iled and blistered and burnedC
How the Rebel bullets whizzed round usB
When a cuss in his death grip turnedC
Till along toward dusk I seen a thingG
I couldn't believe for a spellH
That nigger that Tim was a crawlin' to meE
Through that fire proof gilt edged hellH
-
The Rebels seen him as quick as meE
And the bullets buzzed like beesB
But he jumped for me and shouldered meE
Though a shot brought him once to his kneesB
But he staggered up and packed me offI
With a dozen stumbles and fallsB
Till safe in our lines he drapped us bothJ
His black hide riddled with ballsB
-
So my gentle gazelles thar's my answerA
And here stays Banty TimE
He trumped Death's ace for me that dayC
And I'm not goin' back on himE
You may rezoloot till the cows come homeE
But ef one of you tetches the boyB
He'll wrastle his hash to night in hellH
Or my name's not Tilmon JoyB

John Hay



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