Tim Turpin. - A Pathetic Ballad Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Tim Turpin he was gravel blind	A
And ne'er had seen the skies	B
For Mature when his head was made	C
Forgot to dot his eyes	B
	-
So like a Christmas pedagogue	D
Poor Tim was forc'd to do	E
Look out for pupils for he had	F
A vacancy for two	E
	-
There's some have specs to help their sight	G
Of objects dim and small	H
But Tim had specks within his eyes	B
And could not see at all	H
	-
Now Tim he woo'd a servant maid	C
And took her to his arms	I
For he like Pyramus had cast	J
A wall eye on her charms	I
	-
By day she led him up and down	K
Where'er he wished to jog	D
A happy wife altho' she led	L
The life of any dog	D
	-
But just when Tim had liv'd a month	M
In honey with his wife	N
A surgeon ope'd his Milton eyes	B
Like oysters with a knife	N
	-
But when his eyes were open'd thus	O
He wish'd them dark again	P
For when he look'd upon his wife	N
He saw her very plain	Q
	-
Her face was bad her figure worse	R
He couldn't bear to eat	S
For she was any thing but like	D
A Grace before his meat	S
	-
Tim he was a feeling man	T
For when his sight was thick	D
It made him feel for every thing	D
But that was with a stick	D
	-
So with a cudgel in his hand	U
It was not light or slim	V
He knocked at his wife's head until	W
It open'd unto him	V
	-
And when the corpse was stiff and cold	X
He took his slaughter'd spouse	Y
And laid her in a heap with all	H
The ashes of her house	Y
	-
But like a wicked murderer	Z
He lived in constant fear	A2
From day to day and so he cut	B2
His throat from ear to ear	C2
	-
The neighbors fetch'd a doctor in	D2
Said he this wound I dread	L
Can hardly be sew'd up his life	N
Is hanging on a thread	L
	-
But when another week was gone	E2
He gave him stronger hope	F2
Instead of hanging on a thread	L
Of hanging on a rope	F2
	-
Ah when he hid his bloody work	D
In ashes round about	G2
How little he supposed the truth	H2
Would soon be sifted out	G2
	-
But when the parish dustman came	I2
His rubbish to withdraw	J2
He found more dust within the heap	K2
Than he contracted for	L2
	-
A dozen men to try the fact	M2
Were sworn that very day	N2
But tho' they all were jurors yet	O2
No conjurors were they	N2
	-
Said Tim unto those jurymen	E2
You need not waste your breath	P2
For I confess myself at once	Q2
The author of her death	P2
	-
And oh when I reflect upon	E2
The blood that I have spilt	R2
Just like a button is my soul	S2
Inscrib'd with double guilt	R2
	-
Then turning round his head again	E2
He saw before his eyes	B
A great judge and a little judge	T2
The judges of a size	B
	-
The great judge took his judgment cap	U2
And put it on his head	L
And sentenc'd Tim by law to hang	D
'Till he was three times dead	L
	-
So he was tried and he was hung	D
Fit punishment for such	V2
On Horsham drop and none can say	N2
It was a drop too much	V2

Thomas Hood

Tim Turpin. - A Pathetic Ballad Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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