A Black Job Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AB BABA BCBBCCDCDCD EFEFGGFHHFIJKLLLK FFBMMBBBBBNBNBBBFFOO BBBO BABBBAABPPPBCPCPQQAF FA PPPBBPPPBRRB BPBPBBSSFBBF TUTUVVPPPP AFAFBBBBBBUUUUDDBBBB WWXX AAFBBF AAAAFQQF YYAAABABBAAB BVVBFFFFAAFF BAABBBBB AABQQBBZZBAPAAP FAFAPFFPBBAPPAP QQA2A2APPAB2B2B2A AAAAAAOAAO

No doubt the pleasure is as greatA
Of being cheated as to cheat HUDIBRASB
-
-
The history of human kind to traceB
Since Eve the first of dupes our doom unriddledA
A certain portion of the human raceB
Has certainly a taste for being diddledA
-
Witness the famous Mississippi dreamsB
A rage that time seems only to redoubleC
The Banks Joint Stocks and all the flimsy schemesB
For rolling in Pactolian streamsB
That cost our modern rogues so little troubleC
No matter what to pasture cows on stubbleC
To twist sea sand into a solid ropeD
To make French bricks and fancy bread of rubbleC
Or light with gas the whole celestial copeD
Only propose to blow a bubbleC
And Lord what hundreds will subscribe for soapD
-
Soap it reminds me of a little taleE
Tho' not a pig's the hawbuck's gloryF
When rustic games and merriment prevailE
But here's my storyF
Once on a time no matter whenG
A knot of very charitable menG
Set up a Philanthropical SocietyF
Professing on a certain planH
To benefit the race of manH
And in particular that dark varietyF
Which some suppose inferior as in verminI
The sable is to ermineJ
As smut to flour as coal to alabasterK
As crows to swans as soot to driven snowL
As blacking or as ink to milk belowL
Or yet a better simile to showL
As ragman's dolls to images in plasterK
-
However as is usual in our cityF
They had a sort of managing CommitteeF
A board of grave responsible DirectorsB
A Secretary good at pen and inkM
A Treasurer of course to keep the chinkM
And quite an army of CollectorsB
Not merely male but female dunsB
Young old and middle aged of all degreesB
With many of those persevering onesB
Who mite by mite would beg a cheeseB
And what might be their aimN
To rescue Afric's sable sons from fettersB
To save their bodies from the burning shameN
Of branding with hot lettersB
Their shoulders from the cowhide's bloody strokesB
Their necks from iron yokesB
To end or mitigate the ills of slaveryF
The Planter's avarice the Driver's knaveryF
To school the heathen Negroes and enlighten 'emO
To polish up and brighten 'emO
And make them worthy of eternal blissB
Why no the simple end and aim was thisB
Reading a well known proverb much amissB
To wash and whiten 'emO
-
They look'd so ugly in their sable hidesB
So dark so dingy like a grubby lotA
Of sooty sweeps or colliers and besidesB
However the poor elvesB
Might wash themselvesB
Nobody knew if they were clean or notA
On Nature's fairness they were quite a blotA
Not to forget more serious complaintsB
That even while they join'd in pious hymnP
So black they were and grimP
In face and limbP
They look'd like Devils tho' they sang like SaintsB
The thing was undeniableC
They wanted washing not that slight ablutionP
To which the skin of the White Man is liableC
Merely removing transient pollutionP
But good hard honest energetic rubbingQ
And scrubbingQ
Sousing each sooty frame from heels to headA
With stiff strong saponaceous latherF
And pails of water hottish ratherF
But not so boiling as to turn 'em redA
-
So spoke the philanthropic manP
Who laid and hatch'd and nursed the planP
And oh to view its glorious consummationP
The brooms and mopsB
The tubs and slopsB
The baths and brushes in full operationP
To see each Crow or Jim or JohnP
Go in a raven and come out a swanP
While fair as Cavendishes Vanes and RusselsB
Black Venus rises from the soapy surgeR
And all the little Niggerlings emergeR
As lily white as musselsB
-
Sweet was the vision but alasB
However in prospectus bright and sunnyP
To bring such visionary scenes to passB
One thing was requisite and that was moneyP
Money that pays the laundress and her billsB
For socks and collars shirts and frillsB
Cravats and kerchiefs money without whichS
The negroes must remain as dark as pitchS
A thing to make all Christians sad and shiveryF
To think of millions of immortal soulsB
Dwelling in bodies black as coalsB
And living so to speak in Satan's liveryF
-
Money the root of evil dross and stuffT
But oh how happy ought the rich to feelU
Whose means enable them to give enoughT
To blanch an African from head to heelU
How blessed yea thrice blessed to subscribeV
Enough to scour a tribeV
While he whose fortune was at best a brittle oneP
Although he gave but pence how sweet to knowP
He helped to bleach a Hottentot's great toeP
Or little oneP
-
Moved by this logic or appall'dA
To persons of a certain turn so properF
The money came when call'dA
In silver gold and copperF
Presents from Friends to blacks or foes to whitesB
Trifles and offerings and widows' mitesB
Plump legacies and yearly benefactionsB
With other giftsB
And charitable liftsB
Printed in lists and quarterly transactionsB
As thus Elisha BrettelU
An iron kettleU
The Dowager Lady ScannelU
A piece of flannelU
Rebecca PopeD
A bar of soapD
The Misses HowelsB
Half a dozen towelsB
The Master Rush'sB
Two scrubbing brushesB
Mr T GroomW
A stable broomW
And Mrs GrubbX
A tubX
-
Great were the sums collectedA
And great results in consequence expectedA
But somehow in the teeth of all endeavorF
According to reportsB
At yearly courtsB
The blacks confound them were as black as everF
-
Yes spite of all the water sous'd aloftA
Soap plain and mottled hard and softA
Soda and pearlash huckaback and sandA
Brooms brushes palm of handA
And scourers in the office strong and cleverF
In spite of all the tubbing rubbing scrubbingQ
The routing and the grubbingQ
The blacks confound them were as black as everF
-
In fact in his perennial speechY
The Chairman own'd the niggers did not bleachY
As he had hopedA
From being washed and soapedA
A circumstance he named with grief and pityA
But still he had the happiness to sayB
For self and the CommitteeA
By persevering in the present wayB
And scrubbing at the Blacks from day to dayB
Although he could not promise perfect whiteA
From certain symptoms that had come to lightA
He hoped in time to get them grayB
-
Lull'd by this vague assuranceB
The friends and patrons of the sable tribeV
Continued to subscribeV
And waited waited on with much enduranceB
Many a frugal sister thrifty daughterF
Many a stinted widow pinching motherF
With income by the tax made somewhat shorterF
Still paid implicitly her crown per quarterF
Only to hear as ev'ry year came roundA
That Mr Treasurer had spent her poundA
And as she loved her sable brotherF
That Mr Treasurer must have anotherF
-
But spite of pounds or guineasB
Instead of giving any hintA
Of turning to a neutral tintA
The plaguy Negroes and their piccaninniesB
Were still the color of the bird that cawsB
Only some very aged soulsB
Showing a little gray upon their pollsB
Like dawsB
-
However nothing clashedA
By such repeated failures or abashedA
The Court still met the Chairman and DirectorsB
The Secretary good at pen and inkQ
The worthy Treasurer who kept the chinkQ
And all the cash CollectorsB
With hundreds of that class so kindly credulousB
Without whose help no charlatan aliveZ
Or Bubble Company could hope to thriveZ
Or busy Chevalier however sedulousB
Those good and easy innocents in factA
Who willingly receiving chaff for cornP
As pointed out by Butler's tactA
Still find a secret pleasure in the actA
Of being pluck'd and shornP
-
However in long hundreds there they wereF
Thronging the hot and close and dusty courtA
To hear once more addresses from the ChairF
And regular ReportA
Alas concluding in the usual strainP
That what with everlasting wear and tearF
The scrubbing brushes hadn't got a hairF
The brooms mere stumps would never serve againP
The soap was gone the flannels all in shredsB
The towels worn to threadsB
The tubs and pails too shattered to be mendedA
And what was added with a deal of painP
But as accounts correctly would explainP
Tho' thirty thousand pounds had been expendedA
The Blackamoors had still been wash'd in vainP
-
In fact the Negroes were as black as inkQ
Yet still as the Committee dared to thinkQ
And hoped the proposition was not rashA2
A rather free expenditure of cashA2
But ere the prospect could be made more sunnyA
Up jump'd a little lemon colored manP
And with an eager stammer thus beganP
In angry earnest though it sounded funnyA
What More subscriptions No no no not IB2
You have had time time time enough to tryB2
They WON'T come white then why why why whyB2
More moneyA
-
Why said the Chairman with an accent blandA
And gentle waving of his dexter handA
Why must we have more dross and dirt and dustA
More filthy lucre in a word more goldA
The why sir very easily is toldA
Because Humanity declares we mustA
We've scrubb'd the negroes till we've nearly killed 'emO
And finding that we cannot wash them whiteA
But still their nigritude offends the sightA
We mean to gild 'emO

Thomas Hood



Rate:
(1)



Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme

Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation


Write your comment about A Black Job poem by Thomas Hood


 

Recent Interactions*

This poem was read 13 times,

This poem was added to the favorite list by 0 members,

This poem was voted by 0 members.

(* Interactions only in the last 7 days)

New Poems

Popular Poets