Bill's Grave Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABAB BCBC BDBD EDED FBFB GDGD HEHG EIEI BDBD| I'm gatherin' flowers by the wayside to lay on the grave of Bill | A |
| I've sneaked away from the billet 'cause Jim wouldn't understand | B |
| 'E'd call me a silly fat'ead and larf till it made 'im ill | A |
| To see me 'ere in the cornfield wiv a big bookay in me 'and | B |
| - | |
| For Jim and me we are rough uns but Bill was one o' the best | B |
| We 'listed and learned together to larf at the wust wot comes | C |
| Then Bill copped a packet proper and took 'is departure West | B |
| So sudden 'e 'adn't a minit to say good bye to 'is chums | C |
| - | |
| And they took me to where 'e was planted a sort of a measly mound | B |
| And thinks I 'ow Bill would be tickled bein' so soft and queer | D |
| If I gathered a bunch o' them wild flowers and sort of arranged them round | B |
| Like a kind of a bloody headpiece and that's the reason I'm 'ere | D |
| - | |
| But not for the love of glory I wouldn't 'ave Jim to know | E |
| 'E'd call me a slobberin' Cissy and larf till 'is sides was sore | D |
| I'd 'ave larfed at meself too it isn't so long ago | E |
| But some'ow it changes a feller 'avin' a taste o' war | D |
| - | |
| It 'elps a man to be 'elpful to know wot 'is pals is worth | F |
| Them golden poppies is blazin' like lamps some fairy 'as lit | B |
| I'm fond o' them big white dysies Now Jim's o' the salt o' the earth | F |
| But 'e 'as got a tongue wot's a terror and 'e ain't sentimental a bit | B |
| - | |
| I likes them blue chaps wot's 'idin' so shylike among the corn | G |
| Won't Bill be glad We was allus thicker 'n thieves us three | D |
| Why 'Oo's that singin' so 'earty JIM And as sure as I'm born | G |
| 'E's there in the giddy cornfields a gatherin' flowers like me | D |
| - | |
| Quick Drop me posy be'ind me I watches 'im for a while | H |
| Then I says Wot 'o there Chummy Wot price the little bookay | E |
| And 'e starts like a bloke wot's guilty and 'e says with a sheepish smile | H |
| She's a bit of orl right the widder wot keeps the estaminay | G |
| - | |
| So 'e goes away in a 'urry and I wishes 'im best o' luck | E |
| And I picks up me bunch o' wild flowers and the light's gettin' sorto dim | I |
| When I makes me way to the boneyard and I stares like a man wot's stuck | E |
| For wot do I see Bill's grave mound strewn with the flowers of Jim | I |
| - | |
| Of course I won't never tell 'im bein' a tactical lad | B |
| And Jim parley voos to the widder Trez beans lamoor compree | D |
| Oh 'e'd die of shame if 'e knew I knew but say won't Bill be glad | B |
| When 'e stares through the bleedin' clods and sees the blossoms of Jim and me | D |
Robert Service
(1)
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