Analysis of A Bush Christmas
Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis 1876 (Auburn) – 1938 (Melbourne)
The sun burns hotly thro' the gums
As down the road old Rogan comes
The hatter from the lonely hut
Beside the track to Woollybutt.
He likes to spend his Christmas with us here.
He says a man gets sort of strange
Living alone without a change,
Gets sort of settled in his way;
And so he comes each Christmas day
To share a bite of tucker and a beer.
Dad and the boys have nought to do,
Except a stray odd job or two.
Along the fence or in the yard,
'It ain't a day for workin' hard.'
Says Dad. 'One day a year don't matter much.'
And then dishevelled, hot and red,
Mum, thro' the doorway puts her head
And says, 'This Christmas cooking, My!
The sun's near fit for cooking by.'
Upon her word she never did see such.
Your fault,' says Dad, 'you know it is.
Plum puddin'! on a day like this,
And roasted turkeys! Spare me days,
I can't get over women's ways.
In climates such as this the thing's all wrong.
A bit of cold corned beef an' bread
Would do us very well instead.'
Then Rogan said, 'You're right; it's hot.
It makes a feller drink a lot.'
And Dad gets up and says, 'Well, come along.'
The dinner's served - full bite and sup.
'Come on,' says Mum, 'Now all sit up.'
The meal takes on a festive air;
And even father eats his share
And passes up his plate to have some more.
He laughs and says it's Christmas time,
'That's cookin', Mum. The stuffin's prime.'
But Rogan pauses once to praise,
Then eats as tho' he'd starved for days.
And pitches turkey bones outside the door.
The sun burns hotly thro' the gums,
The chirping of the locusts comes
Across the paddocks, parched and grey.
'Whew!' wheezes Father. 'What a day!'
And sheds his vest. For coats no man had need.
Then Rogan shoves his plate aside
And sighs, as sated men have sighed,
At many boards in many climes
On many other Christmas times.
'By gum!' he says, 'That was a slap-up feed!'
Then, with his black pipe well alight,
Old Rogan brings the kids delight
By telling o'er again his yarns
Of Christmas tide 'mid English barns
When he was, long ago, a farmer's boy.
His old eyes glisten as he sees
Half glimpses of old memories,
Of whitened fields and winter snows,
And yuletide logs and mistletoes,
And all that half-forgotten, hallowed joy.
The children listen, mouths agape,
And see a land with no escape
Fro biting cold and snow and frost
A land to all earth's brightness lost,
A strange and freakish Christmas land to them.
But Rogan, with his dim old eyes
Grown far away and strangely wise
Talks on; and pauses but to ask
'Ain't there a dropp more in that cask?'
And father nods; but Mother says 'Ahem!'
The sun slants redly thro' the gums
As quietly the evening comes,
And Rogan gets his old grey mare,
That matches well his own grey hair,
And rides away into the setting sun.
'Ah, well,' says Dad. 'I got to say
I never spent a lazier day.
We ought to get that top fence wired.'
'My!' sighs poor Mum. 'But I am tired!
An' all that washing up still to be done.'
Scheme | Aabbxccddx eeffghhiig xxjjkhhllk mmnnoppjjo Aaddqrrssq ttuuvwwxav xxyyxzz1 1 i aann2 dd3 3 2 |
---|---|
Poetic Form | Etheree (33%) Tetractys (20%) |
Metre | 01110101 11011101 01010101 010111 1111110111 11011111 10010101 11110011 01111101 1101110001 10011111 01011111 01011001 1101111 1111011101 011101 1101101 01110101 01111101 0101110111 11111111 1110111 01010111 11110101 0101110111 01111111 11110101 11011111 11010101 0111011101 0111101 11111111 01110101 01010111 0101111111 11011101 111011 11010111 11111111 0101011101 01110101 01010101 0101101 11010101 0111111111 11011101 01110111 11010101 11010101 1111110111 11111101 11010101 110100111 11011101 1111010101 11110111 11011100 1110101 01101 0111010101 01010101 01011101 11010101 01111101 010110111 11011111 11010101 11010111 11011011 010111011 0111101 11000101 01011111 11011111 0101010101 11111111 110101001 111111110 111111110 1111011111 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,875 |
Words | 580 |
Sentences | 49 |
Stanzas | 8 |
Stanza Lengths | 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10 |
Lines Amount | 80 |
Letters per line (avg) | 28 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 277 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 71 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:53 min read
- 171 Views
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"A Bush Christmas" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 26 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/6120/a-bush-christmas>.
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