Musings. Suggested By The Late Promotion Of Mrs. Nethercoat. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BCDC EFEFEGEEHH IIEE GGHEHEJHJHFHFH KKFKFF| The widow of Nethercoat is appointed jailer of Loughrea in the room of her deceased husband Limerick Chronicle | A |
| - | |
| - | |
| Whether as queens or subjects in these days | B |
| Women seem formed to grace alike each station | C |
| As Captain Flaherty gallantly says | D |
| You ladies are the lords of the creation | C |
| - | |
| Thus o'er my mind did prescient visions float | E |
| Of all that matchless woman yet may be | F |
| When hark in rumors less and less remote | E |
| Came the glad news o'er Erin's ambient sea | F |
| The important news that Mrs Nethercoat | E |
| Had been appointed jailer of Loughrea | G |
| Yes mark it History Nethercoat is dead | E |
| And Mrs N now rules his realm instead | E |
| Hers the high task to wield the uplocking keys | H |
| To rivet rogues and reign o'er Rapparees | H |
| - | |
| Thus while your blusterers of the Tory school | I |
| Find Ireland's sanest sons so hard to rule | I |
| One meek eyed matron in Whig doctrines nurst | E |
| Is all that's askt to curb the maddest worst | E |
| - | |
| Show me the man that dares with blushless brow | G |
| Prate about Erin's rage and riot now | G |
| Now when her temperance forms her sole excess | H |
| When long loved whiskey fading from her sight | E |
| Small by degrees and beautifully less | H |
| Will soon like other spirits vanish quite | E |
| When of red coats the number's grown so small | J |
| That soon to cheer the warlike parson's eyes | H |
| No glimpse of scarlet will be seen at all | J |
| Save that which she of Babylon supplies | H |
| Or at the most a corporal's guard will be | F |
| Of Ireland's red defence the sole remains | H |
| While of its jails bright woman keeps the key | F |
| And captive Paddies languish in her chains | H |
| - | |
| Long may such lot be Erin's long be mine | K |
| Oh yes if even this world tho' bright it shine | K |
| In Wisdom's eyes a prison house must be | F |
| At least let woman's hand our fetters twine | K |
| And blithe I'll sing more joyous than if free | F |
| The Nethercoats the Nethercoats for me | F |
Thomas Moore
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