Analysis of The Old Stockman's Lament
Henry Lawson 1867 (Grenfell) – 1922 (Sydney)
Wrap me up in me stockwhip and blanket,
And bury me deep down below,
Where this piffle and sham won’t disgust me,
In the land where the coolibahs grow;
For I’ve stayed with some well-to-do people,
And I’ve dined with some middle-class folk;
And I’ve sorrowed by clock-tower and steeple
Till my heart for the Commonwealth’s broke.
They have flown in another direction,
Who used to clack-clack by the hour
Of “this awful Freetrade and Protection,”
Of our dear darling member “in power,”
And the Higher Religion for Dossers,
And the Need of an Object for Drunks—
Now they’re all of them Red or Blue Crossers,
With their tails sticking out of their trunks.
There are citified Martins in dozens—
The Darling Point Martins the pick—
Who used to be horrified cousins
Of a Martin we knew as “Mad Mick.”
He is hanging out somewhere where French is;
But they heard he’d enlisted—somehow,
And ’twould paralyse Mick in the trenches
To know how he’s glorified now.
You remember the George Henry Crosses?
They’ve packed up twelve trunks in despair.
He’s the boss of the back-station bosses,
And Ernie’s the son and the heir.
He has never put hands on a wether,
Nor heard a pithed store-bullock grunt;
So they’re taking the mailboat to England
To see Ernie safe to the Front.
And each of the war-going parsons
Costs many a heart-breaking tear—
Like that caddish young cub of old Carson’s,
All found and four hundred a year.
He feels not a word that he preaches,
But he will not be criticised there,
Where, out where the flying shell screeches,
Poor Tommy must fight, sweat and swear.
“Our relatives, too” (hang the Censor!)
Each girl has a tear on her cheek.
Cousin Roger has gone as dispenser
(Expenses and three pounds a week.
More risky than list’ning to sermons,
As some of our fellows will find,
Is a fierce fortnight’s fight with the Germans
In front—and with Roger behind.)
And the Girls, they are writing like blazes,
And Auntie is moaning like hell;
And I wish I was under the daisies—
Or the bluegum would do just as well.
So I want to be wropped in me blanket,
And buried down—deep down—below;
Where this cant and this cackle won’t reach me—
In the land where the coolibahs grow.
Scheme | abcBdedefgfghhhh hihihjhj hkhkglxl hkhxhkhk gmgmhnhn hohoabcB |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 111011010 01011101 111011011 0011011 1111111110 011111011 0111110010 1111011 1110010010 111111010 111010010 11011010010 001001011 001111011 111111111 111101111 11110010 01011001 11111010 101011111 111011111 11110101 01110010 1111101 1010011010 11111001 1011011010 0101001 111011101 11011101 111001110 11101101 011011010 11001101 11111111 11011001 111011110 1111111 111010110 11011101 1010011010 11101101 1010111010 01001101 11011110 111101011 101111010 01011001 0011110110 01011011 0111110010 10111111 1111110110 01011101 1110110111 0011011 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 2,204 |
Words | 394 |
Sentences | 17 |
Stanzas | 6 |
Stanza Lengths | 16, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8 |
Lines Amount | 56 |
Letters per line (avg) | 30 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 283 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 65 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 1:58 min read
- 75 Views
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"The Old Stockman's Lament" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 24 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/18057/the-old-stockman%27s-lament>.
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