The Jackaw Of Rheims Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABCDDDDDEE FFFAAEEGHAAIIEEE JE KKEELLLBMMNNDDOOMMP QQEEERRRSS FFFFSSSMMMEEEEEESST UUVVWWQQSSSSSEEEE DDDEEQEEQXXXS QEEE MMMEEQ UUDDDDQQQQQQMMMQQQEE MMQ E QQQQQQDDD

The Jackdaw sat on the Cardinal's chairA
Bishop and abbot and prior were thereA
Many a monk and many a friarB
Many a knight and many a squireC
With a great many more of lesser degreeD
In sooth a goodly companyD
And they served the Lord Primate on bended kneeD
Never I weenD
Was a prouder seenD
Read of in books or dreamt of in dreamsE
Than the Cardinal Lord Archbishop of RheimsE
-
In and outF
Through the motley routF
That little Jackdaw kept hopping aboutF
Here and thereA
Like a dog in a fairA
Over comfits and catesE
And dishes and platesE
Cowl and cope and rochet and pallG
Mitre and crosier he hopp'd upon allH
With saucy airA
He perch'd on the chairA
Where in state the great Lord Cardinal satI
In the great Lord Cardinal's great red hatI
And he peer'd in the faceE
Of his Lordship's GraceE
With a satisfied look as if he would sayE
'We two are the greatest folks here to day '-
And the priests with aweJ
As such freaks they sawE
Said 'The Devil must be in that little Jackdaw '-
-
The feast was over the board was clear'dK
The flawns and the custards had all disappear'dK
And six little Singing boys dear little soulsE
In nice clean faces and nice white stolesE
Came in order dueL
Two by twoL
Marching that grand refectory throughL
A nice little boy held a golden ewerB
Emboss'd and fill'd with water as pureM
As any that flows between Rheims and NamurM
Which a nice little boy stood ready to catchN
In a fine golden hand basin made to matchN
Two nice little boys rather more grownD
Carried lavender water and eau de CologneD
And a nice little boy had a nice cake of soapO
Worthy of washing the hands of the PopeO
One little boy moreM
A napkin boreM
Of the best white diaper fringed with pinkP
And a Cardinal's Hat mark'd in 'permanent ink '-
The great Lord Cardinal turns at the sightQ
Of these nice little boys dress'd all in whiteQ
From his finger he drawsE
His costly turquoiseE
And not thinking at all about little JackdawsE
Deposits it straightR
By the side of his plateR
While the nice little boys on his Eminence waitR
Till when nobody's dreaming of any such thingS
That little Jackdaw hops off with the ringS
-
There's a cry and a shoutF
And a deuce of a routF
And nobody seems to know what they're aboutF
But the Monks have their pockets all turn'd inside outF
The Friars are kneelingS
And hunting and feelingS
The carpet the floor and the walls and the ceilingS
The Cardinal drewM
Off each plum colour'd shoeM
And left his red stockings exposed to the viewM
He peeps and he feelsE
In the toes and the heelsE
They turn up the dishes they turn up the platesE
They take up the poker and poke out the gratesE
They turn up the rugsE
They examine the mugsE
But no no such thingS
They can't find THE RINGS
And the Abbott declared that 'when nobody twigg'd itT
Some rascal or other had popp'd in and prigg'd it '-
-
The Cardinal rose with a dignified lookU
He call'd for his candle his bell and his bookU
In holy anger and pious griefV
He solemnly cursed that rascally thiefV
He cursed him at board he cursed him in bedW
From the sole of his foot to the crown of his headW
He cursed him in sleeping that every nightQ
He should dream of the devil and wake in a frightQ
He cursed him in eating he cursed him in drinkingS
He cursed him in coughing in sneezing in winkingS
He cursed him in sitting in standing in lyingS
He cursed him in walking in riding in flyingS
He cursed him in living he cursed him in dyingS
Never was heard such a terrible curseE
But what gave riseE
To no little surpriseE
Nobody seem'd one penny the worseE
-
The day was goneD
The night came onD
The Monks and the Friars they search'd till dawnD
When the Sacristan sawE
On crumpled clawE
Come limping a poor little lame JackdawQ
No longer gayE
His feathers all seem'd to be turn'd the wrong wayE
His head was as bald as the palm of your handQ
His eye so dimX
So wasted each limbX
That heedless of grammar they all cried 'THAT'S HIMX
That's the scamp that has done this scandalous thingS
That's the thief that has got my Lord Cardinal's Ring '-
The poor little JackdawQ
When the Monks he sawE
Feebly gave vent to the ghost of a cawE
And turn'd his bald head as much as to sayE
'Pray be so good as to walk this way '-
Slower and slowerM
He limp'd on beforeM
Till they came to the back of the belfry doorM
Where the first thing they sawE
Midst the sticks and the strawE
Was the Ring in the nest of that little JackdawQ
-
Then the great Lord Cardinal call'd for his bookU
And off that terrible curse he tookU
The mute expressionD
Served in lieu of confessionD
And being thus coupled with full restitutionD
The Jackdaw got plenary absolutionD
When those words were heardQ
That poor little birdQ
Was so changed in a moment 'twas really absurdQ
He grew sleek and fatQ
In addition to thatQ
A fresh crop of feathers came thick as a matQ
His tail waggled moreM
But no longer it wagg'd with an impudent airM
No longer he perch'd on the Cardinal's chairM
He hopp'd now aboutQ
With a gait devoutQ
At Matins at Vespers he never was outQ
And so far from any more pilfering deedsE
He always seem'd telling the Confessor's beadsE
If any one lied or if any one sworeM
Or slumber'd in pray'r time and happen'd to snoreM
That good JackdawQ
Would give a great 'Caw '-
As much as to say 'Don't do so any more '-
While many remark'd as his manners they sawE
That they 'never had known such a pious Jackdaw '-
He long lived the prideQ
Of that country sideQ
And at last in the odour of sanctity diedQ
When as words were too faintQ
His merits to paintQ
The Conclave determined to make him a SaintQ
And on newly made Saints and Popes as you knowD
It's the custom at Rome new names to bestowD
So they canonized him by the name of Jim CrowD

Richard Harris Barham



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