Analysis of The Spellin'-Bee
Paul Laurence Dunbar 1872 (Dayton) – 1906
I NEVER shall furgit that night when father hitched up Dobbin,
An' all us youngsters clambered in an' down the road went bobbin'
To school where we was kep' at work in every kind o' weather,
But where that night a spellin'-bee was callin' us together.
'Twas one o' Heaven's banner nights, the stars was all a glitter,
The moon was shinin' like the hand o' God had jest then lit her.
The ground was white with spotless snow, the blast was sort o' stingin';
But underneath our round-abouts, you bet our hearts was singin'.
That spellin'-bee had be'n the talk o' many a precious moment,
The youngsters all was wild to see jes' what the precious show meant,
An' we whose years was in their teens was little less desirous
O' gittin' to the meetin' so's our sweethearts could admire us.
So on we went so anxious fur to satisfy our mission
That father had to box our ears, to smother our ambition.
But boxin' ears was too short work to hinder our arrivin',
He jest turned roun' an' smacked us all, an' kep' right on a-drivin'.
Well, soon the schoolhouse hove in sight, the winders beamin' brightly;
The sound o' talkin' reached our ears, and voices laffin' lightly.
It puffed us up so full an' big 'at I'll jest bet a dollar,
There wa'n't a feller there but felt the strain upon his collar.
So down we jumped an' in we went ez sprightly ez you make 'em,
But somethin' grabbed us by the knees an' straight began to shake 'em.
Fur once within that lighted room, our feelin's took a canter,
An' scurried to the zero mark ez quick ez Tam O'Shanter.
'Cause there was crowds o' people there, both sexes an' all stations;
It looked like all the town had come an' brought all their relations.
The first I saw was Nettie Gray, I thought that girl was dearer
'N' gold; an' when I got a chance, you bet I aidged up near her.
An' Farmer Dobbs's girl was there, the one 'at Jim was sweet on,
An' Cyrus Jones an' Mandy Smith an' Faith an' Patience Deaton.
Then Parson Brown an' Lawyer Jones were present — all attention,
An' piles on piles of other folks too numerous to mention.
The master rose an' briefly said: 'Good friends, dear brother Crawford,
To spur the pupils' minds along, a little prize has offered.
To him who spells the best to-night — or 't may be 'her' — no tellin' —
He offers ez a jest reward, this precious work on spellin'.'
A little blue-backed spellin'-book with fancy scarlet trimmin';
We boys devoured it with our eyes — so did the girls an' women.
He held it up where all could see, then on the table set it,
An' ev'ry speller in the house felt mortal bound to get it.
At his command we fell in line, prepared to do our dooty,
Outspell the rest an' set 'em down, an' carry home the booty.
'Twas then the merry times began, the blunders, an' the laffin',
The nudges an' the nods an' winks an' stale good-natured chaffin'.
Ole Uncle Hiram Dane was there, the clostest man a-livin',
Whose only bugbear seemed to be the dreadful fear o' givin'.
His beard was long, his hair uncut, his clothes all bare an' dingy;
It wasn't 'cause the man was pore, but jest so mortal stingy.
An' there he sot by Sally Riggs a-smilin' an' a-smirkin',
An' all his childern lef' to home a diggin' an' a-workin'.
A widower he was, an' Sal was thinkin' 'at she'd wing him;
I reckon he was wond'rin' what them rings o' hern would bring him.
An' when the spellin'-test commenced, he up an' took his station,
A-spellin' with the best o' them to beat the very nation.
An' when he'd spell some youngster down, he'd turn to look at Sally,
An' say: 'The teachin' nowadays can't be o' no great vally.'
But true enough the adage says, 'Pride walks in slipp'ry places,'
Fur soon a thing occurred that put a smile on all our faces.
The laffter jest kep' ripplin' 'roun' an' teacher couldn't quell it,
Fur when he give out 'charity' ole Hiram couldn't spell it.
But laffin' 's ketchin' an' it throwed some others off their bases,
An' folks 'u'd miss the very word that seemed to fit their cases.
Why, fickle little Jessie Lee come near the house upsettin'
By puttin' in a double 'kay' to spell the word 'coquettin'.'
An' when it come to Cyrus Jones, it tickled me all over —
Him settin' up to Mandy Smith an' got sot down on 'lover.'
But Lawyer Jones of all gone men did shorely look the gonest,
When he found out that he'd furgot to put the 'h' in 'honest.'
An' Parson Brown, whose sermons were too long fur toleration,
Caused lots o' smiles by missin' when they give out 'condensation.'
So one by one they giv' it up — the big words kep' a-landin',
Till me an' Nettie Gray was left, the only ones a-standin',
An' then my inward strife began — I guess my mind was pe
Scheme | ABCCCCAADEFFBBAAGGCCHHCCIICCJBBBKKAAABLLDGAAAAGGAAMMBBGGNNLLNNAACCDOBBAAP |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11011111101110 111101001101110 1111111101001110 1111011111010 111101010111010 01111011111110 01111101011111 10110111110111 1111110111001010 010111111101011 111110111101010 1110111011011 111111011101010 11011110111010010 1111111110101 11111111111101 1101101010110 0111011010101010 111111111111010 11110101110101110 111110111101111 11111011101111 110111011011010 1101010111111 111111011101110 111101111111010 011111011111110 111111011111110 11011110111111 110111011111010 110111010101010 111111011100110 010111011111010 110101010101110 111101111111011 11010101110111 0101111110101 11010111011101110 111111111101011 11100011101111 110111010111101 10111111101010 110101010101010 010101111111010 1101011101101 1101111010111 11111111111110 110101111111010 1111110101101 111111101101 010011111101111 11011111111111 11011011111110 01101111101010 111111011111110 110110111111 11010101110110 1101011101111010 0111111101011 111111001101011 110111111101110 111101011111110 1101010111011 110010111011 111111011101110 11111011111110 1101111111101 11111111101010 11011100111010 1111111111010 111111110111010 11110111010101 11110101111111 |
Closest metre | Iambic octameter |
Characters | 4,584 |
Words | 874 |
Sentences | 34 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 73 |
Lines Amount | 73 |
Letters per line (avg) | 48 |
Words per line (avg) | 12 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 3,472 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 867 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 4:27 min read
- 101 Views
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"The Spellin'-Bee" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 19 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/28951/the-spellin%27-bee>.
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