My Lady's[1] Lamentation And Complaint Against The Dean Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BBCCDDEEFG HHIIJKCCLLMMNNOOHHPP HHQQGGRRSSTTNNUUVWRR XXCCWWYYZZA2A2B2B2C2 C2IIUUD2D2E2E2F2F2UU UUUUC2C2G2G2GGH2ZUUU UUUC2C2UUIII2I2J2PK2 K2UUL2L2M2M2G2G2G2G2 UUN2N2O2O2P2P2Q2Q2GG F2F2BBG2G2UUE2E2R2R2 S2S2UUUUCCUUT2T2U2U2 P2P2V2IG2G2R2R2UUUUU UW2W2X2X2G2G2Y2Y2UUZ 2Z2UUUUUUUUIIZZG2G2A 3A3TTG2G2IR2U2B3UUP2 P2BBIBBBZ2Z2UUC3C3UU BBBF2IIIIUUUU| JULY | A |
| - | |
| Sure never did man see | B |
| A wretch like poor Nancy | B |
| So teazed day and night | C |
| By a Dean and a Knight | C |
| To punish my sins | D |
| Sir Arthur begins | D |
| And gives me a wipe | E |
| With Skinny and Snipe | E |
| His malice is plain | F |
| Hallooing the Dean | G |
| - | |
| The Dean never stops | H |
| When he opens his chops | H |
| I'm quite overrun | I |
| With rebus and pun | I |
| Before he came here | J |
| To spunge for good cheer | K |
| I sat with delight | C |
| From morning till night | C |
| With two bony thumbs | L |
| Could rub my old gums | L |
| Or scratching my nose | M |
| And jogging my toes | M |
| But at present forsooth | N |
| I must not rub a tooth | N |
| When my elbows he sees | O |
| Held up by my knees | O |
| My arms like two props | H |
| Supporting my chops | H |
| And just as I handle 'em | P |
| Moving all like a pendulum | P |
| He trips up my props | H |
| And down my chin drops | H |
| From my head to my heels | Q |
| Like a clock without wheels | Q |
| I sink in the spleen | G |
| A useless machine | G |
| If he had his will | R |
| I should never sit still | R |
| He comes with his whims | S |
| I must move my limbs | S |
| I cannot be sweet | T |
| Without using my feet | T |
| To lengthen my breath | N |
| He tires me to death | N |
| By the worst of all squires | U |
| Thro' bogs and thro' briers | U |
| Where a cow would be startled | V |
| I'm in spite of my heart led | W |
| And say what I will | R |
| Haul'd up every hill | R |
| Till daggled and tatter'd | X |
| My spirits quite shatter'd | X |
| I return home at night | C |
| And fast out of spite | C |
| For I'd rather be dead | W |
| Than it e'er should be said | W |
| I was better for him | Y |
| In stomach or limb | Y |
| But now to my diet | Z |
| No eating in quiet | Z |
| He's still finding fault | A2 |
| Too sour or too salt | A2 |
| The wing of a chick | B2 |
| I hardly can pick | B2 |
| But trash without measure | C2 |
| I swallow with pleasure | C2 |
| Next for his diversion | I |
| He rails at my person | I |
| What court breeding this is | U |
| He takes me to pieces | U |
| From shoulder to flank | D2 |
| I'm lean and am lank | D2 |
| My nose long and thin | E2 |
| Grows down to my chin | E2 |
| My chin will not stay | F2 |
| But meets it halfway | F2 |
| My fingers prolix | U |
| Are ten crooked sticks | U |
| He swears my el bows | U |
| Are two iron crows | U |
| Or sharp pointed rocks | U |
| And wear out my smocks | U |
| To 'scape them Sir Arthur | C2 |
| Is forced to lie farther | C2 |
| Or his sides they would gore | G2 |
| Like the tusks of a boar | G2 |
| Now changing the scene | G |
| But still to the Dean | G |
| He loves to be bitter at | H2 |
| A lady illiterate | Z |
| If he sees her but once | U |
| He'll swear she's a dunce | U |
| Can tell by her looks | U |
| A hater of books | U |
| Thro' each line of her face | U |
| Her folly can trace | U |
| Which spoils every feature | C2 |
| Bestow'd her by nature | C2 |
| But sense gives a grace | U |
| To the homeliest face | U |
| Wise books and reflection | I |
| Will mend the complexion | I |
| A civil divine | I2 |
| I suppose meaning mine | I2 |
| No lady who wants them | J2 |
| Can ever be handsome | P |
| I guess well enough | K2 |
| What he means by this stuff | K2 |
| He haws and he hums | U |
| At last out it comes | U |
| What madam No walking | L2 |
| No reading nor talking | L2 |
| You're now in your prime | M2 |
| Make use of your time | M2 |
| Consider before | G2 |
| You come to threescore | G2 |
| How the hussies will fleer | G2 |
| Where'er you appear | G2 |
| That silly old puss | U |
| Would fain be like us | U |
| What a figure she made | N2 |
| In her tarnish'd brocade | N2 |
| And then he grows mild | O2 |
| Come be a good child | O2 |
| If you are inclined | P2 |
| To polish your mind | P2 |
| Be adored by the men | Q2 |
| Till threescore and ten | Q2 |
| And kill with the spleen | G |
| The jades of sixteen | G |
| I'll show you the way | F2 |
| Read six hours a day | F2 |
| The wits will frequent ye | B |
| And think you but twenty | B |
| To make you learn faster | G2 |
| I'll be your schoolmaster | G2 |
| And leave you to choose | U |
| The books you peruse | U |
| Thus was I drawn in | E2 |
| Forgive me my sin | E2 |
| At breakfast he'll ask | R2 |
| An account of my task | R2 |
| Put a word out of joint | S2 |
| Or miss but a point | S2 |
| He rages and frets | U |
| His manners forgets | U |
| And as I am serious | U |
| Is very imperious | U |
| No book for delight | C |
| Must come in my sight | C |
| But instead of new plays | U |
| Dull Bacon's Essays | U |
| And pore every day on | T2 |
| That nasty Pantheon | T2 |
| If I be not a drudge | U2 |
| Let all the world judge | U2 |
| 'Twere better be blind | P2 |
| Than thus be confined | P2 |
| But while in an ill tone | V2 |
| I murder poor Milton | I |
| The Dean you will swear | G2 |
| Is at study or prayer | G2 |
| He's all the day sauntering | R2 |
| With labourers bantering | R2 |
| Among his colleagues | U |
| A parcel of Teagues | U |
| Whom he brings in among us | U |
| And bribes with mundungus | U |
| He little believes | U |
| How they laugh in their sleeves | U |
| Hail fellow well met | W2 |
| All dirty and wet | W2 |
| Find out if you can | X2 |
| Who's master who's man | X2 |
| Who makes the best figure | G2 |
| The Dean or the digger | G2 |
| And which is the best | Y2 |
| At cracking a jest | Y2 |
| Now see how he sits | U |
| Perplexing his wits | U |
| In search of a motto | Z2 |
| To fix on his grotto | Z2 |
| How proudly he talks | U |
| Of zigzags and walks | U |
| And all the day raves | U |
| Of cradles and caves | U |
| And boasts of his feats | U |
| His grottos and seats | U |
| Shows all his gewgaws | U |
| And gapes for applause | U |
| A fine occupation | I |
| For one in his station | I |
| A hole where a rabbit | Z |
| Would scorn to inhabit | Z |
| Dug out in an hour | G2 |
| He calls it a bower | G2 |
| But O how we laugh | A3 |
| To see a wild calf | A3 |
| Come driven by heat | T |
| And foul the green seat | T |
| Or run helter skelter | G2 |
| To his arbour for shelter | G2 |
| Where all goes to ruin | I |
| The Dean has been doing | R2 |
| The girls of the village | U2 |
| Come flocking for pillage | B3 |
| Pull down the fine briers | U |
| And thorns to make fires | U |
| But yet are so kind | P2 |
| To leave something behind | P2 |
| No more need be said on't | B |
| I smell when I tread on't | B |
| Dear friend Doctor Jinny | I |
| If I could but win ye | B |
| Or Walmsley or Whaley | B |
| To come hither daily | B |
| Since fortune my foe | Z2 |
| Will needs have it so | Z2 |
| That I'm by her frowns | U |
| Condemn'd to black gowns | U |
| No squire to be found | C3 |
| The neighbourhood round | C3 |
| For under the rose | U |
| I would rather choose those | U |
| If your wives will permit ye | B |
| Come here out of pity | B |
| To ease a poor lady | B |
| And beg her a play day | F2 |
| So may you be seen | I |
| No more in the spleen | I |
| May Walmsley give wine | I |
| Like a hearty divine | I |
| May Whaley disgrace | U |
| Dull Daniel's whey face | U |
| And may your three spouses | U |
| Let you lie at friends' houses | U |
Jonathan Swift
(1)
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<< Apollo To The Dean.[1] 1720 Poem
Horace, Book Iv, Ode Ix; Addressed To Humphry French, Esq.[1] Late Lord Mayor Of Dublin Poem>>
About My Lady's[1] Lamentation And Complaint Against The Dean
My Lady's[1] Lamentation And Complaint Against The Dean is a poem by Jonathan Swift. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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