Sir Arthur Quiller-couch

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Anecdote For Fathers Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCBCDEDEFGFGBHBIJKJ KELELMLNOLPLOQOOEOLR OREROSTSTUVUVWEWOXYX Y

By the late W W of H M Inland Revenue ServiceA
And is it so Can Folly stalkB
And aim her unrespecting dartsC
In shades where grave Professors walkB
And Bachelors of ArtsC
I have a boy not six years oldD
A sprite of birth and lineage highE
His birth I did myself beholdD
His caste is in his eyeE
And oh his limbs are full of graceF
His boyish beauty past compareG
His mother's joy to wash his faceF
And mine to brush his hairG
One morn we strolled on our short walkB
With four goloshes on our shoesH
And held the customary talkB
That parents love to useI
And oft I turn it into verseJ
And write it down upon a pageK
Which being sold supplies my purseJ
And ministers to ageK
So as we paced the curving HighE
To view the sights of Oxford townL
We raised our feet like Nelly BlyE
And then we put them downL
'Now little Edward answer me'M
I said and clutched him by the gownL
'At Cambridge would you rather beN
Or here in Oxford town 'O
My boy replied with tiny frownL
He'd been a year at CavendishP
'I'd rather dwell in Oxford townL
If I could have my wish 'O
'Now little Edward say why soQ
My little Edward tell me why 'O
'Well really Pa I hardly know 'O
'Remarkable ' said IE
'For Cambridge has her 'King's Parade 'O
And much the more becoming gownL
Why should you slight her so ' I saidR
'Compared with Oxford town 'O
At this my boy hung down his headR
While sterner grew the parent's eyeE
And six and thirty times I saidR
'Come Edward tell me why 'O
For I loved Cambridge where they dealS
How strange in butter by the yardT
And so with every third appealS
I hit him rather hardT
Twelve times I struck as may be seenU
For three times twelve is thirty sixV
When in a shop the MagazineU
His tearful sight did fixV
He saw it plain it made him smileW
And thus to me he made replyE
'At Oxford there's a CrocodileW
And that's the reason why 'O
Oh Mr Editor my heartX
For deeper lore would seldom yearnY
Could I believe the hundredth partX
Of what from you I learnY

Sir Arthur Quiller-couch



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