Analysis of The Ballad Of The Taylor Pup

Eugene Field 1850 (St. Louis) – 1895 (Chicago)



Now lithe and listen, gentles all,
Now lithe ye all and hark
Unto a ballad I shall sing
About Buena Park.

Of all the wonders happening there
The strangest hap befell
Upon a famous Aprile morn,
As I you now shall tell.

It is about the Taylor pup
And of his mistress eke
And of the prankish time they had
That I am fain to speak.

FITTE THE FIRST

The pup was of as noble mien
As e'er you gazed upon;
They called his mother Lady
And his father was a Don.

And both his mother and his sire
Were of the race Bernard--
The family famed in histories
And hymned of every bard.

His form was of exuberant mold,
Long, slim, and loose of joints;
There never yet was pointer-dog
So full as he of points.

His hair was like to yellow fleece,
His eyes were black and kind,
And like a nodding, gilded plume
His tail stuck up behind.

His bark was very, very fierce,
And fierce his appetite,
Yet was it only things to eat
That he was prone to bite.

But in that one particular
He was so passing true
That never did he quit a meal
Until he had got through.

Potatoes, biscuits, mush or hash,
Joint, chop, or chicken limb--
So long as it was edible,
'T was all the same to him!

And frequently when Hunger's pangs
Assailed that callow pup,
He masticated boots and gloves
Or chewed a door-mat up.

So was he much beholden of
The folk that him did keep;
They loved him when he was awake
And better still asleep.

FITTE THE SECOND

Now once his master, lingering o'er
His breakfast coffee-cup,
Observed unto his doting spouse:
'You ought to wash the pup!'

'That shall I do this very day',
His doting spouse replied;
'You will not know the pretty thing
When he is washed and dried.

'But tell me, dear, before you go
Unto your daily work,
Shall I use Ivory soap on him,
Or Colgate, Pears' or Kirk?'

'Odzooks, it matters not a whit--
They all are good to use!
Take Pearline, if it pleases you--
Sapolio, if you choose!

'Take any soap, but take the pup
And also water take,
And mix the three discreetly up
Till they a lather make.

'Then mixing these constituent parts,
Let Nature take her way,'
With which advice that sapient sir
Had nothing more to say.

Then fared he to his daily toil
All in the Board of Trade,
While Mistress Taylor for that bath
Due preparation made.

FITTE THE THIRD

She whistled gayly to the pup
And called him by his name,
And presently the guileless thing
All unsuspecting came.

But when she shut the bath-room door,
And caught him as catch-can,
And hove him in that odious tub,
His sorrows then began.

How did that callow, yallow thing
Regret that Aprile morn--
Alas! how bitterly he rued
The day that he was born!

Twice and again, but all in vain
He lifted up his wail;
His voice was all the pup could lift,
For thereby hangs this tale.

'Twas by that tail she held him down,
And presently she spread
The creamy lather on his back,
His stomach, and his head.

His ears hung down in sorry wise,
His eyes were, oh! so sad--
He looked as though he just had lost
The only friend he had.

And higher yet the water rose,
The lather still increased,
And sadder still the countenance
Of that poor martyred beast!

Yet all the time his mistress spoke
Such artful words of cheer
As 'Oh, how nice!' and 'Oh, how clean!'
And 'There's a patient dear!'

At last the trial had an end,
At last the pup was free;
She threw aside the bath-room door--
'Now get you gone!' quoth she.

FITTE THE FOURTH

Then from that tub and from that room
He gat with vast ado;
At every hop he gave a shake,
And--how the water flew!

He paddled down the winding stairs
And to the parlor hied,
Dispensing pools of foamy suds
And slop on every side.

Upon the carpet then he rolled
And brushed against the wall,
And, horror! whisked his lathery sides
On overcoat and shawl.

Attracted by the dreadful din,
His mistress came below--
Who, who can speak her wonderment--
Who, who can paint her woe!

Great smears of soap were here and there--
Her startled vision met
With blobs of lather everywhere,
And everything was wet!

Then Mrs. Taylor gave a shriek
Like one about to die:
'Get out--get out, and don't you dare
Come


Scheme Text too long
Poetic Form
Metre 11010101 111101 10010111 01101 110101001 010101 01010101 111111 11010101 011101 0101111 111111 101 01111101 1101101 1111010 0110101 011100110 010101 010010100 0111001 111101001 110111 11011101 111111 11111101 110101 01010101 111101 11110101 01110 11110111 111111 10110100 111101 11011101 011111 01010111 111101 11111100 1110111 0100111 011101 11101 110111 11110101 011111 11111101 010101 1010 1111010010 110101 01101101 111101 11111101 110101 11110101 111101 11110111 101101 111100111 110111 1110101 111111 11011101 1111 11011101 010101 01010101 110101 110101001 110101 1101111 110111 11111101 100111 11010111 10101 101 1101101 011111 01000101 10101 11110111 011111 011011001 110101 1111011 011101 01110011 011111 10011101 110111 11110111 111111 11111111 010011 01010111 110011 11110101 110111 11111111 010111 01010101 010101 01010100 111101 11011101 110111 11110111 010101 11010111 110111 11010111 111111 101 11110111 111101 110011101 010101 11010101 010101 01011101 0111001 01010111 010101 0101111 11001 01010101 110101 11110100 111101 11110101 010101 1111010 01011 11010101 110111 11110111 1
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 3,920
Words 776
Sentences 42
Stanzas 38
Stanza Lengths 4, 4, 4, 1, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 1, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 1, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 1, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4
Lines Amount 140
Letters per line (avg) 22
Words per line (avg) 5
Letters per stanza (avg) 82
Words per stanza (avg) 20
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

3:52 min read
83

Eugene Field

Eugene Field, Sr. was an American writer, best known for his children's poetry and humorous essays. more…

All Eugene Field poems | Eugene Field Books

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