The Cynotaph, Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Poor Tray charmant	A
Poor Tray de mon Ami	B
Dog bury and Vergers	C
	-
	-
Oh where shall I bury my poor dog Tray	D
Now his fleeting breath has pass'd away	D
Seventeen years I can venture to say	D
Have I seen him gambol and frolic and play	D
Evermore happy and frisky and gay	D
As though every one of his months was May	D
And the whole of his life one long holiday	D
Now he's a lifeless lump of clay	D
Oh where shall I bury my faithful Tray	D
	-
I am almost tempted to think it hard	A
That it may not be there in yon sunny churchyard	A
Where the green willows wave	E
O'er the peaceful grave	E
Which holds all that once was honest and brave	E
Kind and courteous and faithful and true	F
Qualities Tray that were found in you	F
But it may not be you sacred ground	A
By holiest feelings fenced around	A
May ne'er within its hallow'd bound	A
Receive the dust of a soul less hound	A
	-
I would not place him in yonder fane	G
Where the mid day sun through the storied pane	G
Throws on the pavement a crimson stain	G
Where the banners of chivalry heavily swing	H
O'er the pinnacled tomb of the Warrior King	H
With helmet and shield and all that sort of thing	H
No come what may	D
My gentle Tray	D
Shan't be an intruder on bluff Harry Tudor	I
Or panoplied monarchs yet earlier and ruder	I
Whom you see on their backs	C
In stone or in wax	C
Though the sacristans now are 'forbidden to ax'	C
For what Mister Hume calls 'a scandalous tax '	-
While the Chartists insist they've a right to go snacks	C
No Tray's humble tomb would look but shabby	B
'Mid the sculptured shrines of that gorgeous Abbey	B
Besides in the place	C
They say there's not space	C
To bury what wet nurses call 'a Babby '	-
Even 'Rare Ben Jonson ' that famous wight	A
I am told is interr'd there bolt upright	A
In just such a posture beneath his bust	A
As Tray used to sit in to beg for a crust	A
The epitaph too	F
Would scarcely do	F
For what could it say but 'Here lies Tray	D
A very good sort of a dog in his day '	-
And satirical folks might be apt to imagine it	A
Meant as a quiz on the House of Plantagenet	A
	-
No no The Abbey may do very well	J
For a feudal 'Nob' or poetical 'Swell '	-
'Crusaders ' or 'Poets ' or 'Knights of St John '	-
Or Knights of St John's Wood who last year went on	K
To the Castle of Goode Lorde Eglintonne	K
Count Fiddle fumkin and Lord Fiddle faddle	J
'Sir Craven ' 'Sir Gael ' and 'Sir Campbell of Saddell '	-
Who as Mr Hook said when he heard of the feat	A
'Was somehow knock'd out of his family seat '	-
The Esquires of the body	A
To my Lord Tomnoddy	A
'Sir Fairlie ' 'Sir Lamb '	-
And the 'Knight of the Ram '	-
The 'Knight of the Rose ' and the 'Knight of the Dragon '	-
Who save at the flagon	K
And prog in the waggon	K
The Newspapers tell us did little 'to brag on '	-
	-
And more though the Muse knows but little concerning 'em	L
'Sir Hopkins ' 'Sir Popkins ' 'Sir Gage ' and 'Sir Jerningham '	-
All Preux Chevaliers in friendly rivalry	A
Who should best bring back the glory of Chi valry	A
Pray be so good for the sake of my song	M
To pronounce here the ante penultimate long	M
Or some hyper critic will certainly cry	A
'The word 'Chivalry' is but a 'rhyme to the eye ''	-
And I own it is clear	A
A fastidious ear	A
Will be more or less always annoy'd with you when you	F
Insert any rhyme that's not perfectly genuine	K
As to pleasing the 'eye '	-
'Tisn't worth while to try	A
Since Moore and Tom Campbell themselves admit 'spinach'	N
Is perfectly antiphonetic to 'Greenwich	N
But stay I say	D
Let me pause while I may	D
This digression is leading me sadly astray	D
From my object A grave for my poor dog Tray	D
	-
I would not place him beneath thy walls	C
And proud o'ershadowing dome St Paul's	C
Though I've always consider'd Sir Christopher Wren	K
As an architect one of the greatest of men	K
And talking of Epitaphs much I admire his	C
'Circumspice si Monumentum requiris '	-
Which an erudite Verger translated to me	A
'If you ask for his Monument Sir come spy see '	-
No I should not know where	A
To place him there	A
I would not have him by surly Johnson be	A
Or that Queer looking horse that is rolling on Ponsonby	A
Or those ugly minxes	C
The sister Sphynxes	C
Mix'd creatures half lady half lioness ergo	O
Denon says the emblems of Leo and Virgo	O
On one of the backs of which singular jumble	J
Sir Ralph Abercrombie is going to tumble	J
With a thump which alone were enough to despatch him	P
If that Scotchman in front shouldn't happen to catch him	P
	-
No I'd not have him there nor nearer the door	A
Where the Man and the Angel have got Sir John Moore	A
And are quietly letting him down through the floor	A
Near Gillespie the one who escaped at Vellore	A
Alone from the row	A
Neither he nor Lord Howe	Q
Would like to be plagued with a little Bow wow	Q
No Tray we must yield	A
And go further a field	A
To lay you by Nelson were downright effront'ry	A
We'll be off from the City and look at the country	A
	-
It shall not be there	A
In that sepulchred square	A
Where folks are interr'd for the sake of the air	A
Though pay but the dues they could hardly refuse	C
To Tray what they grant to Thuggs and Hindoos	C
Turks Infidels Heretics Jumpers and Jews	C
Where the tombstones are placed	A
In the very best taste	A
At the feet and the head	A
Of the elegant Dead	A
And no one's received who's not 'buried in lead '	-
For there lie the bones of Deputy Jones	C
Whom the widow's tears and the orphan's groans	C
Affected as much as they do the stones	C
His executors laid on the Deputy's bones	C
Little rest poor knave	E
Would he have in his grave	E
Since Spirits 'tis plain	K
Are sent back again	K
To roam round their bodies the bad ones in pain	K
Dragging after them sometimes a heavy jack chain	K
Whenever they met alarmed by its groans his	C
Ghost all night long would be barking at Jones's	C
	-
Nor shall he be laid	A
By that cross Old Maid	A
Miss Penelope Bird of whom it is said	A
All the dogs in the Parish were always afraid	A
He must not be placed	A
By one so strait laced	A
In her temper her taste and her morals and waist	A
For 'tis said when she went up to heaven and St Peter	A
Who happened to meet her	A
Came forward to greet her	A
She pursed up with scorn every vinegar feature	A
And bade him 'Get out for a horrid Male Creature '	-
So the Saint after looking as if he could eat her	A
Not knowing perhaps very well how to treat her	A
And not being willing or able to beat her	A
Sent her back to her grave till her temper grew sweeter	A
With an epithet which I decline to repeat here	A
No if Tray were interr'd	A
By Penelope Bird	A
No dog would be e'er so be 'whelp''d and be 'cur'r'd	A
All the night long her cantankerous Sprite	A
Would be running about in the pale moon light	A
Chasing him round and attempting to lick	R
The ghost of poor Tray with the ghost of a stick	R
	-
Stay let me see	C
Ay here it shall be	C
At the root of this gnarl'd and time worn tree	C
Where Tray and I	A
Would often lie	A
And watch the light clouds as they floated by	A
In the broad expanse of the clear blue sky	A
When the sun was bidding the world good b'ye	C
And the plaintive Nightingale warbling nigh	A
Pour'd forth her mournful melody	C
While the tender Wood pigeon's cooing cry	A
Has made me say to myself with a sigh	A
'How nice you would eat with a steak in a pie '	-
	-
Ay here it shall be far far from the view	F
Of the noisy world and its maddening crew	F
Simple and few	F
Tender and true	F
The lines o'er his grave They have some of them too	F
The advantage of being remarkably new	F

Richard Harris Barham

The Cynotaph, Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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