Jobson Of The Star Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Within a pub that's off the Strand and handy to the bar	A
With pipe in mouth and mug in hand sat Jobson of the Star	A
Come sit ye down ye wond'ring wight and have a yarn says he	B
I can't says I because to night I'm off to Tripoli	B
To Tripoli and Trebizond and Timbuctoo mayhap	C
Or any magic name beyond I find upon the map	C
I go errant trail to try to clutch the skirts of Chance	D
To make once more before I die the gesture of Romance	D
The Jobson yawned above his jug and rumbled Is that so	E
Well anyway sit down you mug and have a drink before you go	E
	-
Now Jobson is a chum of mine and in a dusty den	F
Within the street that's known as Fleet he wields a wicked pen	F
And every night it's his delight above the fleeting show	E
To castigate the living Great and keep the lowly low	E
And all there is to know he knows for unto him is spurred	G
The knowledge of the knowledge of the Thing That Has Occurred	G
And all that is to hear he hears for to his ear is whirled	H
The echo of the echo of the Sound That Shocks The World	H
Let Revolutions rage and rend and Kingdoms rise and fall	I
There Jobson sits and smokes and spits and writes about it all	I
	-
And so we jawed a little while on matters small and great	J
He told me his cynic smile of graves affairs of state	J
Of princes peers and presidents and folks beyond my ken	F
He spoke as you and I might speak of ordinary men	F
For Jobson is a scribe of worth and has respect for none	K
And all the mighty ones of earth are targets for his fun	K
So when I said good bye says he with his satyric leer	A
Too bad to go when life is so damned interesting here	A
The Government rides for a fall and things are getting hot	L
You'd better stick around old pal you'll miss an awful lot	L
	-
Yet still I went and wandered far by secret ways and wide	M
Adventure was the shining star I took to be my guide	M
For fifty moons I followed on and every moon was sweet	N
And lit as if for me alone the trail before my feet	N
From cities desolate with doom my moons swam up and set	O
On tower and temple tent and tomb on mosque and minaret	O
To heights that hailed the dawn I scaled by cliff and chasm sheer	A
To far Cathy I found my way and fabolous Kashmir	A
From camel back I traced the track that bars the barren bled	P
And leads to hell and blazes and I followed where it led	P
Like emeralds in sapphire set and ripe for human rape	C
I passed with passionate regret the Islands of Escape	C
With death I clinched a time or two and gave the brute a fall	I
Hunger and cold and thirst I knew yet how I loved it all	I
Then suddenly I seemed to tire of trecking up and town	Q
And longed for some domestic fire and sailed for London Town	Q
	-
And in a pub that's off the Strand and handy to the bar	A
With pipe in mouth and mug in hand sat Jobson of the Star	A
Hullo says he come take a pew and tell me where you've been	R
It seems to me that lately you have vanished from the scene	S
I've been says I to Kordovan and Kong and Calabar	A
To Sarawak and Samarkand to Ghat and Bolivar	A
To Caracas and Guayaquil to Lhasa and Pekin	K
To Brahmapurta and Brazil to Bagdad and Benin	R
I've sailed the Black Sea and the White The Yellow and the Red	P
The Sula and the Celebes the Bering and the Dead	P
I've climbed on Chimborazo and I've wandered in Peru	A
I've camped on Kinchinjunga and I've crossed the Great Karoo	A
I've drifted on the Hoang ho the Nile and Amazon	T
I've swam the Tiber and the Po thus I was going on	T
When Jobson yawned above his beer and rumbled Is that so	E
It's been so damned exciting here too bad you had to go	E
We've had the devil of a slump the market's gone to pot	L
You should have stuck around you chump you've missed an awful lot	L
	-
	-
	-
In haggard lands where ages brood on plains burnt out and dim	U
I broke the bread of brotherhood with ruthless men and grim	U
By ways untrod I walked with God by parched and bitter path	V
In deserts dim I talked with Him and learned to know His Wrath	V
But in a pub that's off the Strand sits Jobson every night	W
And tells me what a fool I am and maybe he is right	W
For Jobson is a man of stamp and proud of him am I	X
And I am just a bloody tramp and will be till I die	X

Robert Service

Jobson Of The Star Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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