My Old Football Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A BCDCEEFGHIJKJLMNOPQR RSSTUTVWVXYLYLZOZLDA 2DA2RB2RC2LD2LE2F2KF 2ZG2R H2I2J2I2K2E2L2E2F2M2 N2M2O2RP2RLBCDDRC

Cuthbert ClarkeA
-
-
You can keep your antique silver and your statuettes of bronzeB
Your curios and tapestries so fineC
But of all your treasures rare there is nothing to compareD
With this patched up wornout football pal o' mineC
Just a patchedup wornout football yet how it clingsE
I live again my happier days in thoughts that football bringsE
It's got a mouth it's got a tongueF
And oft when we're alone I fancy that it speaksG
To me of golden youth that's flownH
It calls to mind our meetingI
'Twas a present from the DadJ
I kicked it yet I worshipped itK
How strange a priest it hadJ
And yet it jumped with pleasureL
When I punched it might and mainM
And when it had the dumpsN
It got blown up and punched againO
It's lived its lifeP
It's played the gameQ
Its had its rise and fallR
There's history in the wrinkles of that wornout footballR
Caresses rarely came its way in babyhood 'twas tannedS
It's been well oiled and yet it's quite teetotal understandS
It's gone the pace and sometimes it's been absolutely bustT
And yet 'twas always full of bounceU
No matter how 'twas cussedT
He's broken many rules and oft has wandered out of boundsV
He's joined in shooting partiesW
Over other people's groundsV
Misunderstood by womenX
He was never thought a catchY
Yet he was never happierL
Than when bringing off a matchY
He's often been in dangerL
Caught in nets that foes have spreadZ
He's even come to life againO
When all have called him deadZ
Started on the centreL
And he's acted on the squareD
To all parts of the compassA2
He's been bullied everywhereD
His aims and his ambitiousA2
Were opposed by one and allR
And yet he somehow reached his goalB2
That plucky old footballR
When schooling days were endedC2
I forgot him altogetherL
And 'midst the dusty yearsD2
He lay a crumpled lump of leatherL
Then came the threat'ning voice of WarE2
And games had little chanceF2
My brother went to do his bitK
Out there somewhere in FranceF2
And when my brother wrote he saidZ
'Of all a Tommy's joysG2
There's none compares with footballR
Will you send one for the boys '-
I sent not one but manyH2
And my old one with the restI2
I thought that football's finished nowJ2
But no he stood the testI2
Behind the lines they kicked himK2
As he'd never been kicked beforeE2
Till they busted him and sent him backL2
A keepsake of the warE2
My brother lies out there in FranceF2
Beneath a simple crossM2
And I seem to feel my football knows my griefN2
And shares my lossM2
He tells me of that splendid chargeO2
And then my brother's fallR
In life he loved our mutual chumP2
That worn out footballR
Oh you can keep your antique silverL
And your statuettes of bronzeB
Your curios and tapestries so fineC
But of all your treasures rareD
There is nothing to compareD
With that patched up worn out footballR
Pal o' mineC

John Milton Hayes



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