Memorabilia Of Last Week Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BCBD EFEF F GGGG F HIHI FGFGFFBJFF KLLF MFFF| Monday March | A |
| - | |
| The Budget quite charming and witty no hearing | B |
| For plaudits and laughs the good things that were in it | C |
| Great comfort to find though the Speech isn't cheering | B |
| That all its gay auditors were every minute | D |
| - | |
| What still more prosperity mercy upon us | E |
| quot This boy'll be the death of me quot oft as already | F |
| Such smooth Budgeteers have genteelly undone us | E |
| For Ruin made easy there's no one like Freddy | F |
| - | |
| Tuesday | F |
| - | |
| Much grave apprehension express'd by the Peers | G |
| Lest calling to life the old Peachums and Lockitts | G |
| The large stock of gold we're to have in three years | G |
| Should all find its way into highwayman's pockets | G |
| - | |
| Wednesday | F |
| - | |
| Little doing for sacred oh Wednesday thou art | H |
| To the seven o' clock joys of full many a table | I |
| When the Members all meet to make much of that part | H |
| With which they so rashly fell out in the Fable | I |
| - | |
| It appear'd though to night that as churchwardens yearly | F |
| Eat up a small baby those cormorant sinners | G |
| The Bankrupt Commissioners bolt very nearly | F |
| A moderate siz'd bankrupt tout chaud for their dinners | G |
| Nota bene a rumour to day in the City | F |
| quot Mr R b ns n just has resign'd quot what a pity | F |
| The Bulls and the Bears all fell a sobbing | B |
| When they heard of the fate of poor Cock Robin | J |
| While thus to the nursery tune so pretty | F |
| A murmuring Stock dove breath'd her ditty | F |
| - | |
| quot Alas poor Robin he crow'd as long | K |
| And as sweet as a prosperous Cock could crow | L |
| Was a pitch too high for Robin to go | L |
| Who'll make his shroud quot | F |
| - | |
| quot I quot said the Bank quot though he play'd me a prank | M |
| When I have a rag poor Rob shall be roll'd in 't | F |
| With many a pound I'll paper him round | F |
| Like a plump rouleau without the gold in 't quot | F |
Thomas Moore
(1)
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