Analysis of Brithers.
David Rorie 1867 – 1946
'Twas up at the tree near the heid o' the glen
I keppit a tinkler chiel,
The cauld wind whistled his auld duds through,
He was waesomely doon at the heel;
But he made me free o' his company,
For he kent that I wished him weel.
He lookit me fairly 'tween the een,
He cam' o' an auncient clan;
He gae me gude-day in a freendly way,
While he spak me man to man,
Though my gibbles were a' for the human frame
An' his for kettle an' pan.
"Ye're oot i' the warst that the weather can dae,
Ye're free o' the road, like me,
I palmer aboot for kettles to cloot,
Wi' an orra-like weird to dree;
An' oor job's to men' whativer'll men',
Wi' luck to fix oor fee!
Brithers baith o' the auld high road-
Yet the Deil hae General Wade
For learnin's the shauchle instead o' the step
Wi' the weary wark o' his spade,
Till the Jew an' the Sassenach lord it noo
Owre the hills whaur the heroes gaed!"
"O, gang ye East," quo' I, "or Wast,
Or whither awa' gang ye?
Will ye come to a hoose whaur a gude man bides,
For a tastin' o' barley bree?
Ye can howk i' the kebbuck an' howk again
As lang as there's kebbuck to pree.
Or seek ye a saxpence to slocken your drooth?
Ye needna be langer in doot;
Ye can hae a bit hurl to help ye on,
An' I'll get ye a pan to cloot.
I'se warrant I'll freely lat ye in,
An' as freely lat ye oot."
A tuft o' the broom was knotted wi' tow,
An' a rag on't fluttered free,
While he shook his heid owre some ferlies there,
That I'm bathered if I could see,
Though I kent my soul was sib to his
In a queer free-masonry.
"The wife's a mile on the road afore's,
An' the bairnies farther still;
I canna keep tryst wi' doctor folk,
But I'll borrow the price o' a gill,
An' I'll pay ye back when we've finished oor tack
O' a' that's gude an' ill."
He spat on the siller an' pooched it syne,
An' quately winked an e'e;
"The road's a bond that we canna deny,
An' its linkit you an' me
In the kindly yoke o' the gaun-about folk,
Whauriver they chance to be!"
On the bowl o's cutty he scartit a spunk,
An' he leggit it doon the wind;
Gin his claes would hae fleggit a bubbly-jock,
Guid Lord! he'd an easy mind!
An' oor forebears maybe were near-hand freen's
For a' that I can find.
Scheme | ABCBDB AEFEXE FDGCAD GGXGAG GDHDAD XGXGXG GDXDHD HBIBXB ADXDID XGXGHG |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11101101101 1101001 011101111 1111101 1111111100 11111111 110110101 111111 111110011 1111111 1110010101 1111011 111101101011 11110111 110111011 1111111 1111111 111111 1110111 10111001 110101101 10101111 101101111 10110101 11111111 110111 11110110111 1011101 1111011101 1111111 111011111 1111001 1110111111 11110111 1110110110 1110111 0110111011 10111101 111111111 1111111 111111111 0011100 01011011 101101 11111101 11101101 11111111011 101111 1110101111 111111 010111101 111111 00101101011 11111 1011101101 1111101 1111110101 1111101 111100111 101111 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 2,142 |
Words | 455 |
Sentences | 16 |
Stanzas | 10 |
Stanza Lengths | 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6 |
Lines Amount | 60 |
Letters per line (avg) | 27 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 159 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 44 |
Font size:
Submitted on August 03, 2020
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:21 min read
- 2 Views
Citation
Use the citation below to add this poem analysis to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"Brithers." Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 15 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/54971/brithers.>.
Discuss this David Rorie poem analysis with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In