Shooting Pains Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BCDDC EFGGF HIJJI KLLLL MJNNJ OLMML PIOOI JOOOO QRSSR JLAA TUVVU OOOOO OWWO JPOOP JXOOX OJLLJ| 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
(1)
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About Shooting Pains
Shooting Pains is a poem by Thomas Hood. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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