The Deacon's Masterpiece Or, The Wonderful "one-hoss Shay" - A Logical Story Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AAAAABBA CCCDDDDAA EFGGGGHHH IJDDDDDDKK LLLMMMMMNNMMMIIIOOOI I MMAAAAA PPDDNNCCCCAA QRRSSTT AAAAUUUAAVVVVHH AAWWWGGGGXXXPPPPAAYY AA

Have you heard of the wonderful one hoss shayA
That was built in such a logical wayA
It ran a hundred years to a dayA
And then of a sudden it ah but stayA
I 'll tell you what happened without delayA
Scaring the parson into fitsB
Frightening people out of their witsB
Have you ever heard of that I sayA
-
Seventeen hundred and fifty fiveC
Georgius Secundus was then aliveC
Snuffy old drone from the German hiveC
That was the year when Lisbon townD
Saw the earth open and gulp her downD
And Braddock's army was done so brownD
Left without a scalp to its crownD
It was on the terrible Earthquake dayA
That the Deacon finished the one hoss shayA
-
-
Now in building of chaises I tell you whatE
There is always somewhere a weakest spotF
In hub tire felloe in spring or thillG
In panel or crossbar or floor or sillG
In screw bolt thoroughbrace lurking stillG
Find it somewhere you must and willG
Above or below or within or withoutH
And that 's the reason beyond a doubtH
That a chaise breaks down but does n't wear outH
-
But the Deacon swore as Deacons doI
With an I dew vum or an I tell yeouJ
He would build one shay to beat the taownD
'n' the keounty 'n' all the kentry raoun'D
It should be so built that it couldn' break daownD
Fur said the Deacon 't 's mighty plainD
Thut the weakes' place mus' stan' the strainD
'n' the way t' fix it uz I maintainD
Is only jestK
T' make that place uz strong uz the restK
-
-
So the Deacon inquired of the village folkL
Where he could find the strongest oakL
That couldn't be split nor bent nor brokeL
That was for spokes and floor and sillsM
He sent for lancewood to make the thillsM
The crossbars were ash from the straightest treesM
The panels of white wood that cuts like cheeseM
But lasts like iron for things like theseM
The hubs of logs from the Settler's ellumN
Last of its timber they could n't sell 'emN
Never an axe had seen their chipsM
And the wedges flew from between their lipsM
Their blunt ends frizzled like celery tipsM
Step and prop iron bolt and screwI
Spring tire axle and linchpin tooI
Steel of the finest bright and blueI
Thoroughbrace bison skin thick and wideO
Boot top dasher from tough old hideO
Found in the pit when the tanner diedO
That was the way he put her throughI
There said the Deacon naow she 'll dewI
-
Do I tell you I rather guessM
She was a wonder and nothing lessM
Colts grew horses beards turned grayA
Deacon and deaconess dropped awayA
Children and grandchildren where were theyA
But there stood the stout old one hoss shayA
As fresh as on Lisbon earthquake dayA
-
EIGHTEEN HUNDRED it came and foundP
The Deacon's masterpiece strong and soundP
Eighteen hundred increased by tenD
Hahnsum kerridge they called it thenD
Eighteen hundred and twenty cameN
Running as usual much the sameN
Thirty and forty at last arriveC
And then come fifty and FIFTY FIVEC
First of November 'Fifty fiveC
This morning the parson takes a driveC
Now small boys get out of the wayA
Here comes the wonderful one hoss shayA
-
Little of all we value hereQ
Wakes on the morn of its hundredth yearR
Without both feeling and looking queerR
In fact there 's nothing that keeps its youthS
So far as I know but a tree and truthS
This is a moral that runs at largeT
Take it You 're welcome No extra chargeT
-
FIRST OF NOVEMBER the Earthquake dayA
There are traces of age in the one hoss shayA
A general flavor of mild decayA
But nothing local as one may sayA
There couldn't be for the Deacon's artU
Had made it so like in every partU
That there was n't a chance for one to startU
For the wheels were just as strong as the thillsA
And the floor was just as strong as the sillsA
And the panels just as strong as the floorV
And the whipple tree neither less nor moreV
And the back crossbar as strong as the foreV
And spring and axle and hub encoreV
And yet as a whole it is past a doubtH
In another hour it will be worn outH
-
Drawn by a rat tailed ewe necked bayA
Huddup said the parson Off went theyA
The parson was working his Sunday's textW
Had got to fifthly and stopped perplexedW
At what the Moses was coming nextW
All at once the horse stood stillG
Close by the meet'n' house on the hillG
First a shiver and then a thrillG
Then something decidedly like a spillG
And the parson was sitting upon a rockX
At half past nine by the meet'n' house clockX
Just the hour of the Earthquake shockX
What do you think the parson foundP
When he got up and stared aroundP
The poor old chaise in a heap or moundP
As if it had been to the mill and groundP
You see of course if you 're not a dunceA
How it went to pieces all at onceA
All at once and nothing firstY
Just as bubbles do when they burstY
-
End of the wonderful one hoss shayA
Logic is logic That's all I sayA

Oliver Wendell Holmes



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