Christmas In The Olden Time Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABBCCDDEEFFGGHHII EEJJKKLMNOPPQQRRNNRR SSTTRRUUUU| On Christmas eve the bells were rung | A |
| The damsel donned her kirtle sheen | B |
| The hall was dressed with holly green | B |
| Forth to the wood did merry men go | C |
| To gather in the mistletoe | C |
| Thus opened wide the baron hall | D |
| To vassal tenant serf and all | D |
| Power laid his rod of rule aside | E |
| And ceremony doffed his pride | E |
| The heir with roses in his shoes | F |
| That night might village partner choose | F |
| The lord underogating share | G |
| The vulgar game of Post and Pair | G |
| All hailed with uncontrolled delight | H |
| And general voice the happy night | H |
| That to the cottage as the crown | I |
| Brought tidings of salvation down | I |
| - | |
| The fire with well dried logs supplied | E |
| Went roaring up the chimney wide | E |
| The huge hall table's oaken face | J |
| Scrubbed till it shone the day to grace | J |
| Bore then upon its massive board | K |
| No mark to part the squire and lord | K |
| Then was brought in the lusty brawn | L |
| By old blue coated serving man | M |
| Then the grim boar's head frowned on high | N |
| Crested with bays and rosemary | O |
| Well can the green garbed ranger tell | P |
| How when and where the monster fell | P |
| What dogs before his death he tore | Q |
| And all the baitings of the boar | Q |
| The wassal round in good brown bowls | R |
| Garnished with ribbons blithely trowls | R |
| There the huge sirloin reeked hard by | N |
| Plum porridge stood and Christmas pye | N |
| Nor failed old Scotland to produce | R |
| At such high tide her savory goose | R |
| - | |
| Then came the merry maskers in | S |
| And carols roared with blithesome din | S |
| If unmelodious was the song | T |
| It was a hearty note and strong | T |
| Who lists may in their murmuring see | R |
| Traces of ancient mystery | R |
| White shirts supplied the masquerade | U |
| And smutted cheeks the visors made | U |
| But O wht maskers richly dight | U |
| Can boast of bosoms half so light | U |
Sir Walter Scott
(1)
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