Shooting Pains Poem Rhyme Scheme

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The charge is prepar'd Macheath	A
	-
	-
If I shoot any more I'll be shot	B
For ill luck seems determined to star me	C
I have march'd the whole day	D
With a gun for no pay	D
Zounds I'd better have been in the army	C
	-
What matters Sir Christopher's leave	E
To his manor I'm sorry I came yet	F
With confidence fraught	G
My two pointers I brought	G
But we are not a point towards game yet	F
	-
And that gamekeeper too with advice	H
Of my course he has been a nice chalker	I
Not far were his words	J
I could go without birds	J
If my legs could cry out they'd cry Walker	I
	-
Not Hawker could find out a flaw	K
My appointments are modern and Mantony	L
And I've brought my own man	L
To mark down all he can	L
But I can't find a mark for my Anthony	L
	-
The partridges where can they lie	M
I have promis'd a leash to Miss Jervas	J
As the least I could do	N
But without even two	N
To brace me I'm getting quite nervous	J
	-
To the pheasants how well they're preserv'd	O
My sport's not a jot more beholden	L
As the birds are so shy	M
For my friends I must buy	M
And so send silver pheasants and golden	L
	-
I have tried ev'ry form for a hare	P
Every patch every furze that could shroud her	I
With toil unrelax'd	O
Till my patience is tax'd	O
But I cannot be tax'd for hare powder	I
	-
I've been roaming for hours in three flats	J
In the hope of a snipe for a snap at	O
But still vainly I court	O
The percussioning sport	O
I find nothing for setting my cap at	O
	-
A woodcock this month is the time	Q
Right and left I've made ready my lock for	R
With well loaded double	S
But 'spite of my trouble	S
Neither barrel can I find a cock for	R
	-
A rabbit I should not despise	J
But they lurk in their burrows so lowly	L
This day's the eleventh	A
It is not the seventh	A
But they seem to be keeping it hole y	-
	-
For a mallard I've waded the marsh	T
And haunted each pool and each lake oh	U
Mine is not the luck	V
To obtain thee O Duck	V
Or to doom thee O Drake like a Draco	U
	-
For a field fare I've fared far a field	O
Large or small I am never to sack bird	O
Not a thrush is so kind	O
As to fly and I find	O
I may whistle myself for a black bird	O
	-
I am angry I'm hungry I'm dry	-
Disappointed and sullen and goaded	O
And so weary an elf	W
I am sick of myself	W
And with Number One seem overloaded	O
	-
As well one might beat round St Paul's	J
And look out for a cock or a hen there	P
I have search'd round and round	O
All the Baronet's ground	O
But Sir Christopher hasn't a wren there	P
	-
Joyce may talk of his excellent caps	J
But for nightcaps they set me desiring	X
And it's really too bad	O
Not a shot I have had	O
With Hall's Powder renown'd for quick firing	X
	-
If this is what people call sport	O
Oh of sporting I can't have a high sense	J
And there still remains one	L
More mischance on my gun	L
Fined for shooting without any licence	J

Thomas Hood

Shooting Pains Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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