The Lost Heir Poem Rhyme Scheme

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'Oh where and oh where	A
Is my bonny laddie gone '	B
Old Song	C
	-
	-
One day as I was going by	D
That part of Holborn christened High	D
I heard a loud and sodden cry	D
That chill'd my very blood	E
And lo from out a dirty alley	F
Where pigs and Irish wont to rally	F
I saw a crazy woman sally	F
Bedaub'd with grease and mud	E
She turn'd her East she turn'd her West	G
Staring like Pythoness possest	G
With streaming hair and heaving breast	G
As one stark mad with grief	H
This way and that she wildly ran	I
Jostling with woman and with man	I
Her right hand held a frying pan	I
The left a lump of beef	H
At last her frenzy seemed to reach	J
A point just capable of speech	J
And with a tone almost a screech	J
As wild as ocean bird's	K
Or female Banter mov'd to preach	J
She gave her 'sorrow words '	-
	-
'O Lord O dear my heart will break I shall	L
go stick stark staring wild	G
Has ever a one seen anything about the streets	M
like a crying lost looking child	G
Lawk help me I don't know where to look or to	G
run if I only knew which way	N
A Child as is lost about London Streets and especially	F
Seven Dials is a needle in a bottle of hay	N
I am all in a quiver get out of my sight do you	G
wretch you little Kitty M'Nab	O
You promised to have half an eye to him you	G
know you did you dirty deceitful young drab	O
The last time as ever I see him poor thing	P
was with my own blessed Motherly eyes	Q
Sitting as good as gold in the gutter	R
a playing at making little dirt pies	Q
I wonder he left the court where he was better off	S
than all the other young boys	T
With two bricks an old shoe nine oyster shells	U
and a dead kitten by way of toys	T
When his father comes home and he always comes home	V
as sure as ever the clock strikes one	W
He'll be rampant he will at his child being lost	G
and the beef and the inguns not done	W
La bless you good folks mind your own consarns	T
and don't be making a mob in the street	G
O Sergeant M'Farlane you have not come across	T
my poor little boy have you in your beat	G
Do good people move on don't stand staring at me	F
like a parcel of stupid stuck pigs	T
Saints forbid but he's p'r'aps been inviggled	G
away up a court for the sake of his clothes	T
He'd a very good jacket for certain	W
for I bought it myself for a shilling one day in Rag Fair	A
And his trowsers considering not very much patch'd	G
and red plush they was once his Father'	A
His shirt it's very lucky I'd got washing in the tub	X
or that might have gone with the rest	G
But he'd got on a very good pinafore	A
with only two slits and a burn on the breast	G
He'd a goodish sort of hat If the crown was sew'd in	Y
and not quite so much jagg'd at the brim	Z
With one shoe on and the other shoe is a boot	G
and not a fit and you'll know by that if it's him	Z
Except being so well dress'd my mind would misgive	A2
some old beggar woman in want of an orphan	W
Had borrow'd the child to go a begging with	B2
but I'd rather see him laid out in his coffin	Y
Do good people move on such a rabble of boys	T
I'll break every bone of 'em I come near	A
Go home you're spilling the porter go home	V
Tommy Jones go along home with your beer	A
This day is the sorrowfullest day of my life	C2
ever since my name was Betty Morgan	W
Them vile Savoyards they lost him once before	A
all along of following a Monkey and an Organ	W
O my Billy my head will turn right round if	D2
he's got kiddynapp'd with them Italians	T
They'll make him a plaster parish image boy	E2
they will the outlandish tatterdemallions	T
Billy where are you Billy I'm as hoarse as a crow	A
with screaming for ye you young sorrow	A
And shan't have half a voice no more I shan't	G
for crying fresh herrings to morrow	A
O Billy you're bursting my heart in two and my	D
life won't be of no more vally	F
If I'm to see other folk's darlins and none of	F2
mine playing like angels in our alley	F
And what shall I do but cry out my eyes when I	D
looks at the old three legged chair	A
As Billy used to make coaches and horses of and	G
there ain't no Billy there	A
I would run all the wide world over to find him	Z
if I only know'd where to run	W
Little Murphy now I remember was once lost	G
for a month through stealing a penny bun	W
The Lord forbid of any child of mine	G2
I think it would kill me raily	F
To find my Bill holdin up his little	F
innocent hand at the Old Bailey	F
For though I say it as oughtn't yet I will say	T
you may search for miles and mileses	T
And not find one better brought up	H2
and more pretty behaved from one end to t'other	A
of St Giles's	T
And if I called him a beauty it's no lie but only	F
as a Mother ought to speak	I2
You never set eyes on a more handsomer face	T
only it hasn't been washed for a week	I2
As for hair tho' it's red it's the most nicest hair	A
when I've time to just show it the comb	V
I'll owe 'em five pounds and a blessing besides	T
as will only bring him safe and sound home	V
He's blue eyes and not to be call'd a squint	G
though a little cast he's certainly got	G
And his nose is still a good un tho' the bridge is	T
broke by his falling on a pewter pint pot	G
He's got the most elegant wide mouth in the	J2
world and very large teeth for his age	K2
And quite as fit as Mrs Murdockson's child to	G
play Cupid on the Drury Lane Stage	K2
And then he has got such dear winning ways	T
but O I never never shall see him no more	A
O dear to think of losing him just after nussing	I2
him back from death's door	A
Only the very last month when the windfalls	T
hang 'em was at twenty a penny	F
And the threepence he'd got by grottoing was	T
spent in plums and sixty for a child is too many	F
And the Cholera man came and whitewash'd us	T
all and drat him made a seize of our hog	I2
It's no use to send the Crier to cry him about	G
he's such a blunderin drunken old dog	I2
The last time he was fetched to find a lost child	G
he was guzzling with his bell at the Crown	L2
And went and cried a boy instead of a girl for a	J2
distracted Mother and Father about Town	L2
Billy where are you Billy I say come Billy	F
come home to your best of Mothers	T
I'm scared when I think of them Cabroleys they	T
drive so they'd run over their own Sisters and Brothers	T
Or may be he's stole by some chimbly sweeping	I2
wretch to stick fast in narrow flues and what not	G
And be poked up behind with a picked pointed	G
pole when the soot has ketch'd and the chimbly's red hot	G
Oh I'd give the whole wide world if the world	G
was mine to clap my two longin eyes on his face	T
For he's my darlin of darlins and if he don't soon	M2
come back you'll see me drop stone dead on the place	T
I only wish I'd got him safe in these two Motherly	F
arms and wouldn't I hug him and kiss him	Z
Lauk I never knew what a precious he was	T
but a child don't not feel like a child till you miss him	Z
Why there he is Punch and Judy hunting the	J2
young wretch it's that Billy as sartin as sin	Y
But let me get him home with a good grip of his hair	A
and I'm blest if he shall have a whole bone in his skin	Y

Thomas Hood

The Lost Heir Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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