Bob Polter Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCB DEDE FGFG HBHB IDID JBJB KLML NONO LLLL PQPQ RNRN SLSL LLLL TBTB UTUT TVTV LTLT WBWB LLLL NNNN LTLT XSXS TTTT YLYL LLLL| BOB POLTER was a navvy and | A |
| His hands were coarse and dirty too | B |
| His homely face was rough and tanned | C |
| His time of life was thirty two | B |
| - | |
| He lived among a working clan | D |
| A wife he hadn't got at all | E |
| A decent steady sober man | D |
| No saint however not at all | E |
| - | |
| He smoked but in a modest way | F |
| Because he thought he needed it | G |
| He drank a pot of beer a day | F |
| And sometimes he exceeded it | G |
| - | |
| At times he'd pass with other men | H |
| A loud convivial night or two | B |
| With very likely now and then | H |
| On Saturdays a fight or two | B |
| - | |
| But still he was a sober soul | I |
| A labour never shirking man | D |
| Who paid his way upon the whole | I |
| A decent English working man | D |
| - | |
| One day when at the Nelson's Head | J |
| For which he may be blamed of you | B |
| A holy man appeared and said | J |
| Oh ROBERT I'm ashamed of you | B |
| - | |
| He laid his hand on ROBERT'S beer | K |
| Before he could drink up any | L |
| And on the floor with sigh and tear | M |
| He poured the pot of thruppenny | L |
| - | |
| Oh ROBERT at this very bar | N |
| A truth you'll be discovering | O |
| A good and evil genius are | N |
| Around your noddle hovering | O |
| - | |
| They both are here to bid you shun | L |
| The other one's society | L |
| For Total Abstinence is one | L |
| The other Inebriety | L |
| - | |
| He waved his hand a vapour came | P |
| A wizard POLTER reckoned him | Q |
| A bogy rose and called his name | P |
| And with his finger beckoned him | Q |
| - | |
| The monster's salient points to sum | R |
| His heavy breath was portery | N |
| His glowing nose suggested rum | R |
| His eyes were gin and WORtery | N |
| - | |
| His dress was torn for dregs of ale | S |
| And slops of gin had rusted it | L |
| His pimpled face was wan and pale | S |
| Where filth had not encrusted it | L |
| - | |
| Come POLTER said the fiend begin | L |
| And keep the bowl a flowing on | L |
| A working man needs pints of gin | L |
| To keep his clockwork going on | L |
| - | |
| BOB shuddered Ah you've made a miss | T |
| If you take me for one of you | B |
| You filthy beast get out of this | T |
| BOB POLTER don't wan't none of you | B |
| - | |
| The demon gave a drunken shriek | U |
| And crept away in stealthiness | T |
| And lo instead a person sleek | U |
| Who seemed to burst with healthiness | T |
| - | |
| In me as your adviser hints | T |
| Of Abstinence you've got a type | V |
| Of MR TWEEDIE'S pretty prints | T |
| I am the happy prototype | V |
| - | |
| If you abjure the social toast | L |
| And pipes and such frivolities | T |
| You possibly some day may boast | L |
| My prepossessing qualities | T |
| - | |
| BOB rubbed his eyes and made 'em blink | W |
| You almost make me tremble you | B |
| If I abjure fermented drink | W |
| Shall I indeed resemble you | B |
| - | |
| And will my whiskers curl so tight | L |
| My cheeks grow smug and muttony | L |
| My face become so red and white | L |
| My coat so blue and buttony | L |
| - | |
| Will trousers such as yours array | N |
| Extremities inferior | N |
| Will chubbiness assert its sway | N |
| All over my exterior | N |
| - | |
| In this my unenlightened state | L |
| To work in heavy boots I comes | T |
| Will pumps henceforward decorate | L |
| My tiddle toddle tootsicums | T |
| - | |
| And shall I get so plump and fresh | X |
| And look no longer seedily | S |
| My skin will henceforth fit my flesh | X |
| So tightly and so TWEEDIE ly | S |
| - | |
| The phantom said You'll have all this | T |
| You'll know no kind of huffiness | T |
| Your life will be one chubby bliss | T |
| One long unruffled puffiness | T |
| - | |
| Be off said irritated BOB | Y |
| Why come you here to bother one | L |
| You pharisaical old snob | Y |
| You're wuss almost than t'other one | L |
| - | |
| I takes my pipe I takes my pot | L |
| And drunk I'm never seen to be | L |
| I'm no teetotaller or sot | L |
| And as I am I mean to be | L |
William Schwenck Gilbert
(1)
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