Analysis of The Sentimental Bloke
Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis 1876 (Auburn) – 1938 (Melbourne)
An'-wilt-yeh-take-this-woman-fer-to-be
Yer-wedded-wife? -... O, strike me! Will I wot?
Take 'er? Doreen? 'E stan's there arstin' me!
As if 'e thort per'aps I'd rather not!
Take 'er? 'E seemed to think 'er kind was got
Like cigarette-cards, fer the arstin'. Still,
I does me stunt in this 'ere hitchin' rot,
An' speaks me piece: 'Righto! ' I sez, 'I will.'
'I will,' I sez. An' tho' a joyful shout
Come from me bustin' 'eart-I know it did-
Me voice got sorter mangled comin' out,
An' makes me whisper like a frightened kid.
'I will,' I squeaks. An' I'd 'a' give a quid
To 'ad it on the quite, wivout this fuss,
An' orl the starin' crowd that Mar 'ad bid
To see this solim hitchin' up of us.
'Fer-rich-er-er-fer-poorer.' So 'e bleats.
'In-sick-ness-an'-in-'ealth,'... An' there I stands,
An' dunno 'arf the chatter I repeats,
Nor wot the 'ell to do wiv my two 'ands.
But 'e don't 'urry puttin' on our brands -
This white-'aired pilot-bloke - but gives it lip,
Dressed in 'is little shirt, wiv frills an' bands.
'In sick-ness-an'-in-' Ar! I got the pip!
An' once I missed me turn; an' Ginger Mick,
'Oo's my best-man, 'e ups an' beefs it out.
'I will! ' 'e 'owls; an' fetches me a kick.
'Your turn to chin! ' 'e tips wiv a shout.
An' there I'm standin' like a gawky lout.
(Aw, spare me! But I seemed to be all 'ands!)
An' wonders wot 'e's goin' crook about,
Wiv 'arf a mind to crack 'im where 'e stands.
O, lumme! But ole Ginger was a trick!
Got up regardless fer the solim rite.
('E 'awks the bunnies when 'e toils, does Mick)
An' twice I saw 'im feelin' fer a light
To start a fag; an' trembles lest 'e might,
Thro' force o' habit like. 'E's nervis too;
That's plain, fer orl 'is air o' bluff an' skite;
An' jist as keen as me to see it thro'.
But, 'struth, the wimmnin! 'Ow they love this frill!
Fer Auntie Liz, an' Mar, o' course, wus there;
An' Mar's two uncles' wives, an' Cousin Lil,
An' 'arf a dozen more to grin and stare.
I couldn't make me 'ands fit anywhere!
I felt like I wus up afore the Beak!
But my Doreen she never turns a 'air,
Nor misses once when it's 'er turn to speak.
Ar, strike! No more swell marridges fer me!
It seems a blinded year afore 'e's done.
We could 'a' fixed it in the registree
Twice over 'fore this cove 'ad 'arf begun.
I s'pose the wimmin git some sorter fun
Wiv all this guyver, an 'is nibs's shirt.
But, seems to me, it takes the bloomin' bun,
This stylish splicin' uv a bloke an' skirt.
'To-be-yer-weddid-wife-' Aw, take a pull!
Wot in the 'ell's 'e think I come there for?
An' so 'e drawls an' drones until I'm full,
An' wants to do a duck clean out the door.
An' yet, fer orl 'is 'igh-falutin' jor,
Ole Snowy wus a reel good-meanin' bloke.
If 'twasn't fer the 'oly look 'e wore
Yeh'd think 'e piled it on jist fer a joke.
An', when at last 'e shuts 'is little book,
I 'eaves a sigh that nearly bust me vest.
But 'Eavens! Now 'ere's muvver goin' crook!
An' sobbin' awful on me manly chest!
(I wish she'd give them water-works a rest.)
'My little girl! ' she 'owls. 'O, treat 'er well!
She's young - too young to leave 'er muvver's nest! '
'Orright, ole chook,' I nearly sez. Oh, 'ell!
An' then we 'as a beano up at Mar's -
A slap-up feed, wiv wine an' two big geese.
Doreen sits next ter me, 'er eyes like stars.
O, 'ow I wished their blessed yap would cease!
The Parson-bloke 'e speaks a little piece,
That makes me blush an' 'ang me silly 'ead.
'E sez 'e 'opes our lovin' will increase -
I likes that pilot fer the things 'e said.
'E sez Doreen an' me is in a boat,
An' sailin' on the matrimonial sea.
'E sez as 'ow 'e hopes we'll allus float
In peace an' joy, from storm an' danger free.
Then muvver gits to weepin' in 'er tea;
An' Auntie Liz sobs like a winded colt;
An' Cousin Lil comes 'round an' kisses me;
Until I feel I'll 'ave to do a bolt.
Then Ginger gits end-up an' makes a speech -
('E'd 'ad a couple, but 'e wasn't shick.)
'My cobber 'ere,' 'e sez, ''as copped a peach!
Of orl the barrer-load she is the pick!
I 'opes 'e won't fergit 'is pals too quick
As wus 'is frien's in olden days, becors,
I'm trusting later on,' sez Ginger Mick,
'To celebrate the chris'nin'.'... 'Oly wars!
At last Doreen an' me we gits away,
An' leaves 'em doin' nothin' to the scram
(We're honey-moonin' down beside t
Scheme | ABABBCBC BBBBBDBD DEXEEFEF GBGBBEBE GBGBBBBH CHCHHIHI AJHJJBJB KHKHHLHL MBMBBNBN DOXOOBOB BABAABAB PGPGGDGX XXA |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1111110111 1101111111 100111111 111111101 1011110111 10111011 111101111 1111101111 1111110101 1111011111 111101011 1111010101 1111110101 111101111 1101011111 11111111 1100110111 0111011111 1011010101 1101111111 111111101 1111011111 1011011111 0111011101 1111111101 1111111111 1111110101 111111101 111110101 1111111111 110111101 1101111111 111110101 110101011 1101011111 111111101 110111111 111101111 1111111111 1111111111 110111111 1101111111 1111011101 1101011101 110111110 111111101 1101110101 1101110111 11111111 110101111 11011001 1101111101 1110111101 11111111 111111011 110110111 111111101 1001111111 1111110111 1111011101 11111111 110101111 11101111 1111111101 1111111101 1101110111 1111111 111011101 1111110101 1101111101 111111011 111110111 111101111 0111111111 0111110111 111111111 0101110101 1111111101 11111010101 1111010111 1101111001 111001001 111111111 0111111101 11111001 1101110101 1101111101 0111111101 1101111101 1101011101 111111101 110111101 111111111 111101011 1101011101 1100111 1101111101 111110101 11011011 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 4,340 |
Words | 832 |
Sentences | 80 |
Stanzas | 13 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 3 |
Lines Amount | 99 |
Letters per line (avg) | 30 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 229 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 63 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 30, 2023
- 4:17 min read
- 285 Views
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"The Sentimental Bloke" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 4 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/6756/the-sentimental-bloke>.
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