Analysis of Joi, The Glug
Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis 1876 (Auburn) – 1938 (Melbourne)
The Glugs abide in a far, far land
That is partly pebbles and stones and sand,
But mainly earth of a chocolate hue,
When it isn't purple or slightly blue.
And the Glugs live there with their aunts and their wives,
In draughty tenements built like hives.
And they climb the trees when the weather is wet,
To see how high they can really get.
Pray, don't forget,
This is chiefly done when the weather is wet.
And every shadow that flits and hides,
And every stream that glistens and glides
And laughs its way from a highland height,
All know the Glugs quite well by sight.
And they say, 'Our test is the best by far;
For a Glug is a Glug; so there you are!
And they climb the trees when it drizzles or hails
To get electricity into their nails;
And the Glug that fails
Is a luckless Glug, if it drizzles or hails.'
Now, the Glugs abide in the Land of Gosh;
And they work all day for the sake of Splosh.
For Splosh the First is the Nation's pride,
And King of the Glugs, on his uncle's side.
And they sleep at night, for the sake of rest;
For their doctors say this suits them best.
And they climb the trees, as a general rule,
For exercise, when the weather is cool.
They're taught at school
To climb the trees when the weather is cool.
And the whispering grass on the gay, green hills
And every cricket that skirls and shrills,
And every moonbeam, gleaming white,
All know the Glugs quite well by sight.
And they say, 'It is safe, the text we bring;
For a Glug is an awfully Glug-like thng.
And they climb the trees when there's sign of fog,
To scan the land for a feasible dog.
They love to jog
Through dells in quest of the feasible dog.'
Now the Glugs eat meals three times a day
Because their fathers ate that way.
And their grandpas said the scheme was good
To help the Glugs digest their food.
And it's wholesome food the Glugs have got,
For it says so plain on the tin and pot.
And they climb the trees when the weather is dry
To get a glimpse of the pale green sky.
We don't know why,
But they love to gaze on the pale green sky.
And every cloud that sails aloft,
And every breeze that blows so soft,
And every star that shines at night,
All know the Glugs quite well by sight.
For they say, 'Our text is safe and true;
What one Glug does, the other Glugs do;
And they climb the trees when the weather is hot,
For a birds'-eye view of the garden plot.
Of course, it's rot,
But they love that view of the garden plot.'
At half-past two on a Wednesday morn
A most peculiar Glug was born;
And later on, when he grew a man,
He scoffed and sneered at the Chosen Plan.
'It's wrong!' said this Glug, whose name was Joi.
'Bah!' said the Glugs. 'He's a crazy boy!'
And they climbed the trees, as the West wind stirred,
To hark to the note of the guffer bird.
It seems absurd,
But they're awfully fond of the guffer bird.
And every reed that rustles and sways
By the gurgling river that plashes and plays,
And the beasts of the dread, neurotic night,
All know the Glugs quite well by sight.
And, 'Why,' say they; 'it is easily done;
For a dexter Glug's like a sinister one!
And they climb the trees when the thunder rolls,
To soddenly salve their small, pale souls,
For they fear the coals
That threaten to frizzle their pale, pink souls.'
Said the Glug called Joi: 'This climbing trees
Is a foolish art, and things like these
Cause much distress in the land of Gosh.
Let's stay on the ground and kill King Splosh!'
But Splosh, the King, he smiled a smile,
And beckoned once to his hangman, Guile,
Who climbed a tree when the weather was calm;
And they hanged poor Joi on a snufflebust palm:
Then sang a psalm.
Did those pious Glugs 'neath the sufflebust palm.
And every bee that kisses a flower,
And every blossom, born for an hour,
And ever bird on its gladsome flight,
All know the Glugs quite well by sight.
For they say: ''Tis a simple text we've got:
If you know one Glug, why you know the lot!
So they climbed a tree in the burgeoning Spring,
And they hanged poor Joi with some second-hand string.
It's a horrible thing
To be hanged by Glugs with second-hand string.
Then Splosh, the king, rose up and said:
'It's not polite; but he safer dead.
And there's not much room in th eland of Gosh
For a Glug named Joi and a king named Splosh!'
And ever Glug flung high his hat,
And cried, 'We're Glugs! And you can't change that!'
So they climbed the trees, since the weather was cold,
As their grea
Scheme | aabbccdddd eefFgghhhh iijjkkllll xcfFmmnono ppxxqqrrrr xxfFbbqqqq ssttxxuuuu vvfFwwxxxx yyiizz1 1 x1 2 2 ffqqmmmm 3 3 ii4 4 xg |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 010100111 1110100101 110110101 1110101101 00111111011 01100111 01101101011 111111101 1101 11101101011 010011101 010011101 011110101 11011111 01110110111 1011011111 0110111111 1101000111 00111 1010111111 1010100111 0111110111 110110101 0110111101 0111110111 111011111 01101101001 110101011 1111 1101101011 00100110111 0100101101 01001101 11011111 0111110111 1011110111 0110111111 1101101001 1111 1101101001 101111101 01110111 01110111 11010111 011010111 1111110101 01101101011 110110111 1111 1111110111 010011101 010011111 010011111 11011111 1111011101 111101011 01101101011 1011110101 1111 1111110101 111110101 01010111 010111101 110110101 111111111 110110101 0110110111 111011011 1101 111011011 010011101 10100101101 0011010101 11011111 0111111001 10101101001 0110110101 1111111 11101 110111111 101111101 101010111 110100111 111010111 11011101 010111101 1101101011 011111011 1101 111011011 01001110010 01001011110 01011111 11011111 1111010111 1111111101 11101001001 01111111011 101001 1111111011 11011101 110111101 011110111011 1011100111 01011111 011101111 11101101011 111 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 4,292 |
Words | 857 |
Sentences | 48 |
Stanzas | 11 |
Stanza Lengths | 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 8 |
Lines Amount | 108 |
Letters per line (avg) | 31 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 306 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 77 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 4:20 min read
- 82 Views
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"Joi, The Glug" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 21 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/6409/joi%2C-the-glug>.
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