The Song Of The Wage-slave Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHIIJJ KKLLMMNOPPPPQQPPRR

When the long long day is over and the Big Boss gives me my payA
I hope that it won't be hell fire as some of the parsons sayA
And I hope that it won't be heaven with some of the parsons I've metB
All I want is just quiet just to rest and forgetB
Look at my face toil furrowed look at my calloused handsC
Master I've done Thy bidding wrought in Thy many landsC
Wrought for the little masters big bellied they be and richD
I've done their desire for a daily hire and I die like a dog in a ditchD
I have used the strength Thou hast given Thou knowest I did not shirkE
Threescore years of labor Thine be the long day's workE
And now Big Master I'm broken and bent and twisted and scarredF
But I've held my job and Thou knowest and Thou will not judge me hardF
Thou knowest my sins are many and often I've played the foolG
Whiskey and cards and women they made me the devil's toolG
I was just like a child with money I flung it away with a curseH
Feasting a fawning parasite or glutting a harlot's purseH
Then back to the woods repentant back to the mill or the mineI
I the worker of workers everything in my lineI
Everything hard but headwork I'd no more brains than a kidJ
A brute with brute strength to labor doing as I was bidJ
Living in camps with men folk a lonely and loveless lifeK
Never knew kiss of sweetheart never caress of wifeK
A brute with brute strength to labor and they were so far aboveL
Yet I'd gladly have gone to the gallows for one little look of LoveL
I with the strength of two men savage and shy and wildM
Yet how I'd ha' treasured a woman and the sweet warm kiss of a childM
Well 'tis Thy world and Thou knowest I blaspheme and my ways be rudeN
But I've lived my life as I found it and I've done my best to be goodO
I the primitive toiler half naked and grimed to the eyesP
Sweating it deep in their ditches swining it stark in their styesP
Hurling down forests before me spanning tumultuous streamsP
Down in the ditch building o'er me palaces fairer than dreamsP
Boring the rock to the ore bed driving the road through the fenQ
Resolute dumb uncomplaining a man in a world of menQ
Master I've filled my contract wrought in Thy many landsP
Not by my sins wilt Thou judge me but by the work of my handsP
Master I've done Thy bidding and the light is low in the westR
And the long long shift is over Master I've earned it RestR

Robert Service



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