Analysis of In Spadger's Lane
Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis 1876 (Auburn) – 1938 (Melbourne)
Ole Mother Moon 'oo yanks 'er beamin' dile
Acrost the sky when we've grown sick o' day,
She's like some fat ole Jane 'oo loves to smile
On all concerned, an' smooth our faults away;
An', like a woman, tries to 'ide again
The sores an' scars crool day 'as made too plain.
To all the earth she gives the soft glad-eye;
She picks no fav'rits in this world o' men;
She peeps in nooks, where 'appy lovers sigh,
To make their job more bonzer still; an' then,
O'er Spadger's Lane she waves a podgy 'and,
An' turns the scowlin' slums to Fairyland.
Aw, strike! I'm gettin' soft in my ole age!
I'm growin' mushy wiv the passin' years.
Me! that 'as called it weakness to ingage
In sloppy thorts that coax the pearly tears.
But say, me state o' mind I can't ixplain
When I seen Rose lars' night in Spadger's Lane.
'Twas Spadger's Lane where Ginger Mick 'ung out
Before 'e took to follerin' the Flag;
The Lane that echoed to 'is drunken shout
When 'e lobbed 'omeward on a gaudy jag.
Now Spadger's Lane knows Ginger Mick no more,
Fer 'e's become an 'ero at the War.
A flamin' 'ero at the War, that's Mick.
An' Rose - 'is Rose, is waitin' in the Lane,
Nursin' 'er achin' 'eart, an' lookin' sick
As she crawls out to work an' 'ome again,
Givin' the bird to blokes 'oo'd be 'er 'friend,'
An' prayin', wiv the rest, fer wars to end.
Quite right; I'm growin' sloppy fer a cert;
But I must git it orf me chest or bust.
So 'ere's a song about a grievin' skirt,
An' love, an' Ginger Mick, an' maiden trust!
The choky sort o' song that fetches tears
When blokes is full o' sentiment-or beers.
Lars' night, when I sneaks down to taste again
The sights an' sounds I used to know so well,
The moon wus shinin' over Spadger's Lane,
Sof'nin' the sorrer where 'er kind light fell:
Sof'nin' an' soothin', like it wus 'er plan
To make ixcuses fer the sins uv man.
Frum shadder inter shadder, up the street,
A prowlin' moll sneaks by, wiv eyes all 'ate,
Dodgin' some unseen John, 'oo's sure, slow feet
Comes tappin' after, certin as 'er fate;
In some back crib, a shicker's loud 'owled verse
Stops sudden, wiv a crash, an' then a curse.
Low down, a splotch o' red, where 'angs a blind
Before the winder uv a Chow caboose,
Shines in the dead black wall, an' frum be'ind,
Like all the cats o' Chinertown broke loose,
A mad Chow fiddle wails a two-note toon…
An' then I seen 'er, underneath the moon.
Rosie the Rip they calls 'er int he Lane;
Fer she wus alwus willin' wiv 'er 'an's,
An' uses 'em to make 'er meanin' plain
In ways theat Spadger's beauties understan's.
But when ole Ginger played to snare 'er 'eart,
Rosie the Rip wus jist the soft, weak tart.
'Igh in 'er winder she wus leanin' out,
Swappin' remarks wiv fat ole Mother Moon.
The things around I clean Fergot about
Fergot the fiddle an' its crook Chow toon;
I only seen one woman in the light
Achin' to learn 'er forchin frum the night.
Ole Ginger's Rose! To see 'er sittin' there,
The moonlight shinin' fair into 'er face,
An' sort o' touchin' gentle on 'er 'air,
It made me fair fergit the time an' place.
I feels I'm peepin' where I never ought,
An' tries 'arf not to 'ear the words I caught.
One soljer's sweetheart, that wus wot I seen:
One out o' thousands grievin' thro' the land.
A tart frum Spadger's or a weepin' queen
Wot's there between 'em, when yeh understand
She 'olds fer Mick, wiv all 'is ugly chiv,
The best a lovin' woman 'as to give.
The best a woman 'as to give - Aw, 'Struth!
When war, an' grief, an' trouble's on the land
Sometimes a bloke gits glimpses uv the truth
An' sweats 'is soul to try an' understand . . .
An' then the World, like some offishus John,
Shoves out a beefy 'and, an' moves 'im on.
So I seen Rose; an' so, on that same night
I seen a million women grievin' there.
Ole Mother Moon she showed to me a sight
She sees around the World, most everyw'ere
Sneakin' beneath the shadder uv the wall
I seen, an' learned, an' understood it all.
An' as I looks at Rosie, dreamin' there,
'Er 'ead drops on 'er arms . . . I seems to wake;
I sees the moonlight streamin' on 'er 'air;
I 'ears 'er sobbin' like 'er 'eart ud break.
An' me there, pryin' on 'er misery.
'Gawstruth!' I sez, 'This ain't no place fer me!'
On my tip-toes I sneaks the way I came
(The crook Chow fiddle ain't done yowlin' yet)
An' tho' I tells it to me bitter shame
I'm gittin' soft as 'ell - me eyes wus wet.
An' that stern John, as I go moochin' by
Serloot
Scheme | ABABCD ECECXF GHGICD JKJKLL MDMCNN BOXOIH CADAPP QRQRSS XTBTUU DHDHBX JUJUVV WXWXXX YFYFZZ 1 F1 F2 2 VWVLAA W3 W3 4 4 5 6 5 6 EB |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 110111011 101111111 1111111111 11011110101 1101011101 0111111111 1101110111 111101111 110111101 111111111 101111010 11011110 111110111 11101011 111111011 0101110101 111111111 111111011 111110111 01111101 0111011101 111110101 111110111 1101110101 01110111 111111001 1111111 1111111101 101111101 111011111 111110101 1111111111 110101011 1111011101 011111101 1111110011 1111111101 0111111111 01111011 10110111 11111101 11110111 11011101 011111111 110111111 110101101 011101111 1101011101 1101111101 0101010101 100111111 11011111 0111010111 111100101 1001110111 11111101 110111011 0111101 1111011101 1001110111 100101111 101111101 010111101 101011111 1101110001 11101101 11111011 01110101 111110101 111110111 111111101 1111110111 11111111 111101101 01111011 110111101 1111111101 0101010111 0101011111 111111101 0101110101 111111101 11011111 1101001111 1111111111 110101011 1101111101 11010111 10101101 111110111 111111011 0111011111 11011101 110110111 111110100 111111111 1111110111 011101111 1111111101 111111111 111111111 1 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 4,300 |
Words | 843 |
Sentences | 43 |
Stanzas | 17 |
Stanza Lengths | 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6 |
Lines Amount | 102 |
Letters per line (avg) | 31 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 189 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 50 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 4:22 min read
- 40 Views
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"In Spadger's Lane" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 1 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/6387/in-spadger%27s-lane>.
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