The Man From Athabaska Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABABB CDCED AFAFF BGBGG CHIIH GHGHH GBGBB JEJEE GGGGG GGGGG GFCBF KEKEBE| Oh the wife she tried to tell me that 'twas nothing but the thrumming | A |
| Of a wood pecker a rapping on the hollow of a tree | B |
| And she thought that I was fooling when I said it was the drumming | A |
| Of the mustering of legions and 'twas calling unto me | B |
| 'Twas calling me to pull my freight and hop across the sea | B |
| - | |
| And a mending of my fish nets sure I started up in wonder | C |
| For I heard a savage roaring and 'twas coming from afar | D |
| Oh the wife she tried to tell me that 'twas only summer thunder | C |
| And she laughed a bit sarcastic when I told her it was War | E |
| 'Twas the chariots of battle where the mighty armies are | D |
| - | |
| Then down the lake came Half breed Tom with russet sail a flying | A |
| And the word he said was War again so what was I to do | F |
| Oh the dogs they took to howling and the missis took to crying | A |
| As I flung my silver foxes in the little birch canoe | F |
| Yes the old girl stood a blubbing till an island hid the view | F |
| - | |
| Says the factor Mike you're crazy They have soldier men a plenty | B |
| You're as grizzled as a badger and you're sixty year or so | G |
| But I haven't missed a scrap says I since I was one and twenty | B |
| And shall I miss the biggest You can bet your whiskers no | G |
| So I sold my furs and started and that's eighteen months ago | G |
| - | |
| For I joined the Foreign Legion and they put me for a starter | C |
| In the trenches of the Argonne with the Boche a step away | H |
| And the partner on my right hand was an apache from Montmartre | I |
| On my left there was a millionaire from Pittsburg U S A | I |
| Poor fellow They collected him in bits the other day | H |
| - | |
| But I'm sprier than a chipmunk save a touch of the lumbago | G |
| And they calls me Old Methoosalah and blagues' me all the day | H |
| I'm their exhibition sniper and they work me like a Dago | G |
| And laugh to see me plug a Boche a half a mile away | H |
| Oh I hold the highest record in the regiment they say | H |
| - | |
| And at night they gather round me and I tell them of my roaming | G |
| In the Country of the Crepuscule beside the Frozen Sea | B |
| Where the musk ox runs unchallenged and the cariboo goes homing | G |
| And they sit like little children just as quiet as can be | B |
| Men of every crime and colour how they harken unto me | B |
| - | |
| And I tell them of the Furland of the tumpline and the paddle | J |
| Of secret rivers loitering that no one will explore | E |
| And I tell them of the ranges of the pack strap and the saddle | J |
| And they fill their pipes in silence and their eyes beseech for more | E |
| While above the star shells fizzle and the high explosives roar | E |
| - | |
| And I tell of lakes fish haunted where the big bull moose are calling | G |
| And forests still as sepulchres with never trail or track | G |
| And valleys packed with purple gloom and mountain peaks appalling | G |
| And I tell them of my cabin on the shore at Fond du Lac | G |
| And I find myself a thinking Sure I wish that I was back | G |
| - | |
| So I brag of bear and beaver while the batteries are roaring | G |
| And the fellows on the firing steps are blazing at the foe | G |
| And I yarn of fur and feather when the marmites' are a soaring | G |
| And they listen to my stories seven poilus' in a row | G |
| Seven lean and lousy poilus with their cigarettes aglow | G |
| - | |
| And I tell them when it's over how I'll hike for Athabaska | G |
| And those seven greasy poilus they are crazy to go too | F |
| And I'll give the wife the pickle tub I promised and I'll ask her | C |
| The price of mink and marten and the run of cariboo | B |
| And I'll get my traps in order and I'll start to work anew | F |
| - | |
| For I've had my fill of fighting and I've seen a nation scattered | K |
| And an army swung to slaughter and a river red with gore | E |
| And a city all a smoulder and as if it really mattered | K |
| For the lake is yonder dreaming and my cabin's on the shore | E |
| And the dogs are leaping madly and the wife is singing gladly | B |
| And I'll rest in Athabaska and I'll leave it nevermore | E |
Robert William Service
(1)
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