Analysis of A Ballad Of Pikeville



Down in Southern Arizona where the Gila monster thrives,
And the 'Mescalero,' gifted with a hundred thousand lives,
Every hour renounces one of them by drinking liquid flame
The assassinating wassail that has given him his name;
Where the enterprising dealer in Caucasian hair is seen
To hold his harvest festival upon his village-green,
While the late lamented tenderfoot upon the plain is spread
With a sanguinary circle on the summit of his head;
Where the cactuses (or cacti) lift their lances in the sun,
And incautious jackass-rabbits come to sorrow as they run,
Lived a colony of settlers-old Missouri was the State
Where they formerly resided at a prehistoric date.

Now, the spot that had been chosen for this colonizing scheme
Was as waterless, believe me, as an Arizona stream.

The soil was naught but ashes, by the breezes driven free,
And an acre and a quarter were required to sprout a pea.
So agriculture languished, for the land would not produce,
And for lack of water, whisky was the beverage in use-
Costly whisky, hauled in wagons many a weary, weary day,
Mostly needed by the drivers to sustain them on their way.
Wicked whisky! King of Evils! Why, O, why did God create
Such a curse and thrust it on us in our inoffensive state?

Once a parson came among them, and a holy man was he;
With his ailing stomach whisky wouldn't anywise agree;
So he knelt upon the _mesa_ and he prayed with all his chin
That the Lord would send them water or incline their hearts to gin.

Scarcely was the prayer concluded ere an earthquake shook the land,
And with copious effusion springs burst out on every hand!
Merrily the waters gurgled, and the shock which gave them birth
Fitly was by some declared a temperance movement of the earth.
Astounded by the miracle, the people met that night
To celebrate it properly by some religious rite;
And 'tis truthfully recorded that before the moon had sunk
Every man and every woman was devotionally drunk.
A half a standard gallon (says history) per head
Of the best Kentucky prime was at that ceremony shed.
O, the glory of that country! O, the happy, happy folk.
By the might of prayer delivered from Nature's broken yoke!
Lo! the plains to the horizon all are yellowing with rye,
And the corn upon the hill-top lifts its banners to the sky!
Gone the wagons, gone the drivers, and the road is grown to grass,
Over which the incalescent Bourbon did aforetime pass.
Pikeville (that's the name they've given, in their wild, romantic way,
To that irrigation district) now distills, statistics say,
Something like a hundred gallons, out of each recurrent crop,
To the head of population-and consumes it, every drop!


Scheme XXAABBCCDDEE FF GGHHIIEE GGJJ KKLLMMNNCCOOPPQQIIRR
Poetic Form
Metre 10100101010101 00010101010101 10010010111110101 0010011110111 10100100010111 11110100011101 1010101010111 101101010111 101110111001 011101110111 101001101010101 11100010100101 101111101111 111011110101 01111101010101 0110001000101101 1100101011101 011110101010001 1010101010010101 101010101011111 101011101111101 1010111101000101 101010110010111 1110101010101 11101010111111 101111101011111 10101010111101 01100111111001 10001010011111 111101010010101 01010100010111 1101100110101 011000101010111 1001010010111 0101010110011 10101011111001 101011101010101 10111010110101 101100101110011 001010111110101 101010100011111 1010110111 11011100110101 11010101010101 101010101110101 101101000111001
Closest metre Iambic octameter
Characters 2,620
Words 467
Sentences 20
Stanzas 5
Stanza Lengths 12, 2, 8, 4, 20
Lines Amount 46
Letters per line (avg) 46
Words per line (avg) 10
Letters per stanza (avg) 423
Words per stanza (avg) 93
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 14, 2023

2:21 min read
85

Ambrose Bierce

Ambrose Gwinnett Bierce was an American editorialist, journalist, short story writer, fabulist, and satirist. more…

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