Execution, The : A Sporting Anecdote Hon. Mr. Sucklethumbkin's Story Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABBA CCCAADDE AAAAABB FFFAAAA GGGGHHHEE IIJJJGGKKKAAAALLLMMM GGGGNNNO AAAA GGGGGGGGG PPP AAAA GGQR HHAAAGG SSSGGGGGGAATT GGGUUUPPAAAAVVHWHAAU UXXJJPYPAA ZZAAA2A2GGAB2B2AAPPF C2DAAA| My Lord Tomnoddy got up one day | A |
| It was half after two | B |
| He had nothing to do | B |
| So his Lordship rang for his cabriolet | A |
| - | |
| Tiger Tim | C |
| Was clean of limb | C |
| His boots were polish'd his jacket was trim | C |
| With a very smart tie in his smart cravat | A |
| And a smart cockade on the top of his hat | A |
| Tallest of boys or shortest of men | D |
| He stood in his stockings just four foot ten | D |
| And he ask'd as he held the door on the swing | E |
| 'Pray did your Lordship please to ring ' | - |
| - | |
| My Lord Tomnoddy he raised his head | A |
| And thus to Tiger Tim he said | A |
| 'Malibran's dead | A |
| Duvernay's fled | A |
| Taglioni has not yet arrived in her stead | A |
| Tiger Tim come tell me true | B |
| What may a Nobleman find to do | B |
| - | |
| Tim look'd up and Tim look'd down | F |
| He paused and he put on a thoughtful frown | F |
| And he held up his hat and he peep'd in the crown | F |
| He bit his lip and he scratch'd his head | A |
| He let go the handle and thus he said | A |
| As the door released behind him bang'd | A |
| 'An't please you my Lord there 's a man to be hang'd | A |
| - | |
| My Lord Tomnoddy jump'd up at the news | G |
| 'Run to M'Fuze | G |
| And Lieutenant Tregooze | G |
| And run to Sir Carnaby Jenks of the Blues | G |
| Rope dancers a score | H |
| I've seen before | H |
| Madame Sacchi Antonio and Master Blackmore | H |
| But to see a man swing | E |
| At the end of a string | E |
| With his neck in a noose will be quite a new thing ' | - |
| - | |
| My Lord Tomnoddy stept into his cab | I |
| Dark rifle green with a lining of drab | I |
| Through street and through square | J |
| His high trotting mare | J |
| Like one of Ducrow's goes pawing the air | J |
| Adown Piccadilly and Waterloo Place | G |
| Went the high trotting mare at a very quick pace | G |
| She produced some alarm | K |
| But did no great harm | K |
| Save frightening a nurse with a child on her arm | K |
| Spattering with clay | A |
| Two urchins at play | A |
| Knocking down very much to the sweeper's dismay | A |
| An old woman who wouldn't get out of the way | A |
| And upsetting a stall | L |
| Near Exeter Hall | L |
| Which made all the pious Church Mission folks squall | L |
| But eastward afar | M |
| Through Temple Bar | M |
| My Lord Tomnoddy directs his car | M |
| Never heeding their squalls | G |
| Or their calls or their bawls | G |
| He passes by Waithman's Emporium for shawls | G |
| And merely just catching a glimpse of St Paul's | G |
| Turns down the Old Bailey | N |
| Where in front of the gaol he | N |
| Pulls up at the door of the gin shop and gaily | N |
| Cries 'What must I fork out to night my trump | O |
| For the whole first floor of the Magpie and Stump ' | - |
| - | |
| - | |
| The clock strikes Twelve it is dark midnight | A |
| Yet the Magpie and Stump is one blaze of light | A |
| The parties are met | A |
| The tables are set | A |
| There is 'punch ' 'cold without ' 'hot with ' 'heavy wet ' | - |
| Ale glasses and jugs | G |
| And rummers and mugs | G |
| And sand on the floor without carpets or rugs | G |
| Cold fowl and cigars | G |
| Pickled onions in jars | G |
| Welsh rabbits and kidneys rare work for the jaws | G |
| And very large lobsters with very large claws And there is M'Fuze | G |
| And Lieutenant Tregooze | G |
| And there is Sir Carnaby Jenks of the Blues | G |
| All come to see a man 'die in his shoes ' | - |
| - | |
| The clock strikes One | P |
| Supper is done | P |
| And Sir Carnaby Jenks is full of his fun | P |
| Singing 'Jolly companions every one ' | - |
| My Lord Tomnoddy | A |
| Is drinking gin toddy | A |
| And laughing at ev'ry thing and ev'ry body | A |
| The clock strikes Two and the clock strikes Three | A |
| ' Who so merry so merry as we ' | - |
| Save Captain M'Fuze | G |
| Who is taking a snooze | G |
| While Sir Carnaby Jenks is busy at work | Q |
| Blacking his nose with a piece of burnt cork | R |
| - | |
| The clock strikes Four Round the debtors' door | H |
| Are gather'd a couple of thousand or more | H |
| As many await | A |
| At the press yard gate | A |
| Till slowly its folding doors open and straight | A |
| The mob divides and between their ranks | G |
| A waggon comes loaded with posts and with planks | G |
| - | |
| The clock strikes Five | S |
| The Sheriffs arrive | S |
| And the crowd is so great that the street seems alive | S |
| But Sir Carnaby Jenks | G |
| Blinks and winks | G |
| A candle burns down in the socket and stinks | G |
| Lieutenant Tregooze | G |
| Is dreaming of Jews | G |
| And acceptances all the bill brokers refuse | G |
| My Lord Tomnoddy | A |
| Has drunk all his toddy | A |
| And just as the dawn is beginning to peep | T |
| The whole of the party are fast asleep | T |
| - | |
| Sweetly oh sweetly the morning breaks | G |
| With roseate streaks | G |
| Like the first faint blush on a maiden's cheeks | G |
| Seem'd as that mild and clear blue sky | U |
| Smiled upon all things far and nigh | U |
| On all save the wretch condemn'd to die | U |
| Alack that ever so fair a Sun | P |
| As that which its course has now begun | P |
| Should rise on such a scene of misery | A |
| Should gild with rays so light and free | A |
| That dismal dark frowning Gallows tree And hark a sound comes big with fate | A |
| The clock from St Sepulchre's tower strikes Eight | A |
| List to that low funereal bell | V |
| It is tolling alas a living man's knell | V |
| And see from forth that opening door | H |
| They come HE steps that threshold o'er | W |
| Who never shall tread upon threshold more | H |
| God 'tis a fearsome thing to see | A |
| That pale wan man's mute agony | A |
| The glare of that wild despairing eye | U |
| Now bent on the crowd now turn'd to the sky | U |
| As though 'twere scanning in doubt and in fear | X |
| The path of the Spirit's unknown career | X |
| Those pinion'd arms those hands that ne'er | J |
| Shall be lifted again not even in prayer | J |
| That heaving chest Enough ' tis done | P |
| The bolt has fallen the spirit is gone | Y |
| For weal or for woe is known but to One | P |
| Oh 'twas a fearsome sight Ah me | A |
| A deed to shudder at not to see | A |
| - | |
| Again that clock 'tis time 'tis time | Z |
| The hour is past with its earliest chime | Z |
| The cord is severed the lifeless clay | A |
| By 'dungeon villains' is borne away | A |
| Nine 'twas the last concluding stroke | A2 |
| And then my Lord Tomnoddy awoke | A2 |
| And Tregooze and Sir Carnaby Jenks arose | G |
| And Captain M'Fuze with the black on his nose | G |
| And they stared at each other as much as to say | A |
| 'Hollo Hollo | B2 |
| Here's a rum Go | B2 |
| Why Captain my Lord Here 's the devil to pay | A |
| The fellow's been cut down and taken away | A |
| What's to be done | P |
| We've miss'd all the fun | P |
| Why they'll laugh at and quiz us all over the town | F |
| We are all of us done so uncommonly brown ' | - |
| - | |
| What was to be done ' twas perfectly plain | C2 |
| That they could not well hang the man over again | D |
| What was to be done The man was dead | A |
| Nought could be done nought could be said | A |
| So my Lord Tomnoddy went home to bed | A |
Richard Harris Barham
(1)
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About Execution, The : A Sporting Anecdote Hon. Mr. Sucklethumbkin's Story
Execution, The : A Sporting Anecdote Hon. Mr. Sucklethumbkin's Story is a poem by Richard Harris Barham. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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