Analysis of The Merryman and His Maid
William Schwenck Gilbert 1836 – 1911
[HE] I have a song to sing, O!
[SHE] Sing me your song, O!
[HE] It is sung to the moon
By a love-lorn loon,
Who fled from the mocking throng, O!
It's the song of a merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye.
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me - lackadaydee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
[SHE] I have a song to sing, O!
[HE] Sing me your song, O!
[SHE] It is sung with the ring
Of the song maids sing
Who love with a love life-long, O!
It's the song of a merrymaid, peerly proud,
Who loved a lord, and who laughed aloud
At the moan of the merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sore, whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me - lackadaydee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
[HE] I have a song to sing, O!
[SHE] Sing me your song, O!
[HE] It is sung to the knell
Of a churchyard bell,
And a doleful dirge, ding dong, O!
It's a song of a popinjay, bravely born,
Who turned up his noble nose with scorn
At the humble merrymaid, peerly proud,
Who loved that lord, and who laughed aloud
At the moan of the merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me - lackadaydee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
[SHE] I have a song to sing, O!
[HE] Sing me your song, O!
[SHE] It is sung with a sigh
And a tear in the eye,
For it tells of a righted wrong, O!
It's a song of a merrymaid, once so gay,
Who turned on her heel and tripped away
From the peacock popinjay, bravely born,
Who turned up his noble nose with scorn
At the humble heart that he did not prize;
And it tells how she begged, with downcast eyes,
For the love of a merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!
[BOTH] Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me - lackadaydee!
His pains were o'er, and he sighed no more.
For he lived in the love of a ladye!
Scheme | AAbbacCCDEECD AAffaeeCcCDEECD AAggahHeeCCCDEECD AAxdaiihHjjcCCDeExd |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11101111 111111 1111101 10111 11101011 10110100101 11111111 111101111 111101101 11 10011 111101111 111101101 11101111 111111 1111101 10111 11101111 10110111 110101101 10110100101 11111111 111101111 111101101 11 10011 111101111 111101101 11101111 111111 1111101 1011 00101111 101101101 111110111 1010111 111101101 10110100101 11111111 111101111 111101101 11 10011 111101111 111101101 11101111 111111 1111101 001001 111101011 101101111 111010101 1011101 111110111 1010111111 011111111 10110100101 11111111 111101111 111101101 111 10011 1101001111 111001101 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,207 |
Words | 462 |
Sentences | 34 |
Stanzas | 4 |
Stanza Lengths | 13, 15, 17, 19 |
Lines Amount | 64 |
Letters per line (avg) | 26 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 421 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 118 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 20, 2023
- 2:20 min read
- 108 Views
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"The Merryman and His Maid" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/41309/the-merryman-and-his-maid>.
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