Analysis of The Three Bares
Ma tried to wash her garden slacks but couldn't get 'em clean
And so she thought she'd soak 'em in a bucket o' benzine.
It worked all right. She wrung 'em out then wondered what she'd do
With all that bucket load of high explosive residue.
She knew that it was dangerous to scatter it around,
For Grandpa liked to throw his lighted matches on the ground.
Somehow she didn't dare to pour it down the kitchen sink,
And what the heck to do with it, poor Ma jest couldn't think.
Then Nature seemed to give the clue, as down the garden lot
She spied the edifice that graced a solitary spot,
Their Palace of Necessity, the family joy and pride,
Enshrined in morning-glory vine, with graded seats inside;
Jest like that cabin Goldylocks found occupied by three,
But in this case B-E-A-R was spelt B-A-R-E----
A tiny seat for Baby Bare, a medium for Ma,
A full-sized section sacred to the Bare of Grandpapa.
Well, Ma was mighty glad to get that worry off her mind,
And hefting up the bucket so combustibly inclined,
She hurried down the garden to that refuge so discreet,
And dumped the liquid menace safely through the centre seat.
Next morning old Grandpa arose; he made a hearty meal,
And sniffed the air and said: 'By Gosh! how full of beans I feel.
Darned if I ain't as fresh as paint; my joy will be complete
With jest a quiet session on the usual morning seat;
To smoke me pipe an' meditate, an' maybe write a pome,
For that's the time when bits o' rhyme gits jiggin' in me dome.'
He sat down on that special seat slicked shiny by his age,
And looking like Walt Whitman, jest a silver-whiskered sage,
He filled his corn-cob to the brim and tapped it snugly down,
And chuckled: 'Of a perfect day I reckon this the crown.'
He lit the weed, it soothed his need, it was so soft and sweet:
And then he dropped the lighted match clean through the middle seat.
His little grand-child Rosyleen cried from the kichen door:
'Oh, Ma, come quick; there's sompin wrong; I heared a dreffel roar;
Oh, Ma, I see a sheet of flame; it's rising high and higher...
Oh, Mummy dear, I sadly fear our comfort-cot's caught fire.'
Poor Ma was thrilled with horror at them words o' Rosyleen.
She thought of Grandpa's matches and that bucket of benzine;
So down the garden geared on high, she ran with all her power,
For regular was Grandpa, and she knew it was his hour.
Then graspin' gaspin' Rosyleen she peered into the fire,
A roarin' soarin' furnace now, perchance old Grandpa's pyre....
But as them twain expressed their pain they heard a hearty cheer----
Behold the old rapscallion squattinn' in the duck pond near,
His silver whiskers singed away, a gosh-almighty wreck,
Wi' half a yard o' toilet seat entwined about his neck....
He cried: 'Say, folks, oh, did ye hear the big blow-out I made?
It scared me stiff - I hope you-uns was not too much afraid?
But now I best be crawlin' out o' this dog-gasted wet....
For what I aim to figger out is----WHAT THE HECK I ET?'
Scheme | AABBCCDD EEFFGGHX IIJJ KKJJHX LLMMJJ NNOO AAOOOO PPQQ RRSS |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11110101110111 01111110010110 11111111110111 1111011101010 11111100110101 1111111010101 1110111110101 01011111111101 11011101110101 1101001101001 110101000100101 01010101110101 11110111011 10111101111011 01011101010011 011101010111 11110111110101 0110101101 11010101110101 01010101010101 1101101110101 01010111111111 11111111111101 110101010100101 1111110110101 1101111111011 11111101110111 0101110101011 11111101011101 01010011110101 11011111111101 01110101110101 11011111011 111111111011 111101111101010 1101110110101110 111111011111 1111100110110 110101111111010 11001101111110 11111101010 011101011110 11110111110101 01011100111 11010101010101 11011101010111 11111111011111 11111111111101 111111111111 1111111110111 |
Closest metre | Iambic heptameter |
Characters | 2,909 |
Words | 549 |
Sentences | 23 |
Stanzas | 9 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 4, 6, 6, 4, 6, 4, 4 |
Lines Amount | 50 |
Letters per line (avg) | 45 |
Words per line (avg) | 11 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 250 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 60 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on May 03, 2023
- 2:47 min read
- 201 Views
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"The Three Bares" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 30 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/32664/the-three-bares>.
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