A Sailor's Apology For Bow-legs. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABABCCBBC DEDDEFFEGHHG IJHJKKAAKALAMML NOONPBPBQBQBRSRTTS BSBSAAAAA UVUVVBBOABBA SASASOAOBOABB| There's some is born with their straight legs by natur | A |
| And some is born with bow legs from the first | B |
| And some that should have grow'd a good deal straighter | A |
| But they were badly nurs'd | B |
| And set you see like Bacchus with their pegs | C |
| Astride of casks and kegs | C |
| I've got myself a sort of bow to larboard | B |
| And starboard | B |
| And this is what it was that warp'd my legs | C |
| - | |
| 'Twas all along of Poll as I may say | D |
| That foul'd my cable when I ought to slip | E |
| But on the tenth of May | D |
| When I gets under weigh | D |
| Down there in Hertfordshire to join my ship | E |
| I sees the mail | F |
| Get under sail | F |
| The only one there was to make the trip | E |
| Well I gives chase | G |
| But as she run | H |
| Two knots to one | H |
| There warn't no use in keeping on the race | G |
| - | |
| Well casting round about what next to try on | I |
| And how to spin | J |
| I spies an ensign with a Bloody Lion | H |
| And bears away to leeward for the inn | J |
| Beats round the gable | K |
| And fetches up before the coach horse stable | K |
| Well there they stand four kickers in a row | A |
| And so | A |
| I just makes free to cut a brown 'un's cable | K |
| But riding isn't in a seaman's natur | A |
| So I whips out a toughish end of yarn | L |
| And gets a kind of sort of a land waiter | A |
| To splice me heel to heel | M |
| Under the she mare's keel | M |
| And off I goes and leaves the inn a starn | L |
| - | |
| My eyes how she did pitch | N |
| And wouldn't keep her own to go in no line | O |
| Tho' I kept bowsing bowsing at her bow line | O |
| But always making lee way to the ditch | N |
| And yaw'd her head about all sorts of ways | P |
| The devil sink the craft | B |
| And wasn't she trimendus slack in stays | P |
| We couldn't no how keep the inn abaft | B |
| Well I suppose | Q |
| We hadn't run a knot or much beyond | B |
| What will you have on it but off she goes | Q |
| Up to her bends in a fresh water pond | B |
| There I am all a back | R |
| So I looks forward for her bridle gears | S |
| To heave her head round on the t'other tack | R |
| But when I starts | T |
| The leather parts | T |
| And goes away right over by the ears | S |
| - | |
| What could a fellow do | B |
| Whose legs like mine you know we're in the bilboes | S |
| But trim myself upright for bringing to | B |
| And square his yard arms and brace up his elbows | S |
| In rig all snug and clever | A |
| Just while his craft was taking in her water | A |
| I didn't like my berth tho' howsomdever | A |
| Because the yarn you see kept getting tauter | A |
| Says I I wish this job was rayther shorter | A |
| - | |
| The chase had gain'd a mile | U |
| A head and still the she mare stood a drinking | V |
| Now all the while | U |
| Her body didn't take of course to shrinking | V |
| Says I she's letting out her reefs I'm thinking | V |
| And so she swell'd and swell'd | B |
| And yet the tackle held | B |
| 'Till both my legs began to bend like winkin | O |
| My eyes but she took in enough to founder | A |
| And there's my timbers straining every bit | B |
| Ready to split | B |
| And her tarnation hull a growing rounder | A |
| - | |
| Well there off Hertford Ness | S |
| We lay both lash'd and water logg'd together | A |
| And can't contrive a signal of distress | S |
| Thinks I we must ride out this here foul weather | A |
| Tho' sick of riding out and nothing less | S |
| When looking round I sees a man a starn | O |
| Hollo says I come underneath her quarter | A |
| And hands him out my knife to cut the yarn | O |
| So I gets off and lands upon the road | B |
| And leaves the she mare to her own consarn | O |
| A standing by the water | A |
| If I get on another I'll be blow'd | B |
| And that's the way you see my legs got bow'd | B |
Thomas Hood
(1)
Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
About A Sailor's Apology For Bow-legs.
A Sailor's Apology For Bow-legs. is a poem by Thomas Hood. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
Write your comment about A Sailor's Apology For Bow-legs. poem by Thomas Hood
Best Poems of Thomas Hood
