Analysis of Rose



'Ah, wot's the use?' she sez.  'Lea' me alone!
Why can't I go to 'ell in my own way?
I never arst you 'ere to mag an' moan.
Nor yet,' she sez, 'to pray.
I'll take wot's comin', an' whine no excuse.
So wot's the use?

'Me life's me own!' she sez.  'You got a nerve
You two - to interfere in my affairs.
Git out an' give advise where it may serve:
Stay 'ome an' bleat yer pray'rs.
Did I come pleadin' for yer pity?  No!
Well, why not go?'

Pride!  Dilly pride an' down-an'-out despair:
When them two meet there's somethin' got to break.
I got that way, to see 'er sittin' there,
I felt like I could take
That 'arf-starved frame uv 'er's by might an' main,
An' shake 'er sane.

That's 'ow it is when me an' parson roam
Down to the paradise wot Spadgers knows,
To find the 'ovel that she calls 'er 'ome,
An' 'ave a word with Rose.
Imgagin' 'igh-strung cliners in dispute
Ain't my long suit.

'Huh!  Rescue work!' she sneers.  'Er eyes is bright;
'Er voice is 'ard.  'I'm a deservin' case.
Me? Fancy!  Don't I look a pretty sight
To come to savin' grace?
Pity the sinner - Aw, don't come that trick!
It makes me sick!'

'Isterical she was, or nearly so:
Too little grub, an' too much time to fret
Ingrowin' grouch sich as few women know,
Or want to know - an' yet,
When I glance at the parson, there I see
 Raw misery.

I've knowed ole Snowy since the days uv old;
Yet never 'ad I got so close to see
A world-wise man 'oo's 'cart is all pure gold
An' 'uman charity.
For, all that girl was suff'rln', well I knoo,
'E suffered too.

'My child,' 'e sez, 'I don't come 'ere to preach.
You're a good girl; an' when -' 'Oo sez I ain't?
'Oo sez I ain't?' 'Er voice is near a screech.
'I'm no hymn-singin' saint;
But you're a bit too previous givin' me
This third degree.'

An' then she starts to laugh.  I'd 'ate to see
A woman laugh or look like that again.
She's in the dinkum 'igh-strikes now; to me
That's showin' pretty plain.
She's like a torchered thing - 'arf crazy - wild ....
'Take thort, my child.

'Take thort,' the parson sez.  'I only ask
Before you risk all for a life uv crime
You'll 'esitate.  Is that too 'ard to task?
May there not come a time -'
'Time?  Yes,' I chips.  'You'll git that fer yer pains.
Ar, brush yer brains!'

The parson sighs.  'This man,' 'E sez, 'this Wegg
'Oo dazzles you with tork uv gains frum sin
Is 'e dependable?  Think well, I beg -'
'Beg nothin',' I chips in.
'To beg decoy ducks ain't the proper tack.
 She wants a smack!'

The parson groans.  'I've offered you,' 'e starts.
'Offer 'er nothin'!  Can't you pick 'er like?
No dinkum 'elp is any good to tarts
'0o'd fall fer sich as Spike.
She's short uv grit to battle on 'er own,
An' stand alone.'

That done it.  If I'd let the parson gone
An' come the mild an' gentle, sure enough,
She'd 'ad the willies.  When the dames take on,
The game's to treat 'em rough.
That's wot I've 'card.  It woke Rose up, all right,
An' full uv fight.

'Alone?' she sez.  'I've stood alone, Gawd knows!
Alone an' honest, battlin' on the square.
An' now - Oh, damn your charity!  I've chose!
I'm down; an' I don't care.
I'm fer the easy life an' pretty clo'es.
That's that!' sez Rose.

The cause looks blue.  Wot more was to be said?
An' then, all on me own, I weaves right there
The bright idear wot after bowed me 'ead
In sorrer an' despair.
I didn't ort to be let out alone.
That much I own.

'Ah, well,' I sez, resigned, 'if that's the life,
It's no use sayin' wot I come to say.
Which was,' I sez, 'a message frum me wife
Arstin' you 'ome to stay.'
'Your wife?' I nods.  'If you 'ad cared to come.'
She seems struck dumb.

'Your wife?' she sez.  'Wot does she know uv me?'
Then pride an' 'er suspicions makes 'er flare:
'Is this more pretty schemes fer charity?
Why should she arst me there?'
'Why?  Well, you ort to know,' I answer, quick.
'Account uv Mick.'

Down on 'er folded arms 'er 'ead went, flop.
At larst our 'oly cause is won, I know.
She sobbed until I thort she'd never stop:
It 'urt to see 'er so;
Yet I felt glad the way I'd worked me nob
An' let 'er sob,

'That's tore it,' I remarks be'ind me 'and.
The parson nods.  'E's smilin' now all gay.
Ten minutes later, an' the 'ole thing's planned
Fer Rose's 'oliday.
We put the acid on, an' scold an' tease
Till she agrees.

Once we're outside the parson takes me 'and.
'Without your 'elp, your


Scheme ABABCC DXDCEE FGFGHH IJIJKK LMLMNN EOEOPP QPQPAX RSRSPP PXPHTT UVUVWW GXXXYY Z1 Z1 AA X2 X2 LL JFJFCJ XFKFAA 3 B3 B4 4 PFPFNN 5 E5 E6 6 7 BXK8 8 7 X
Poetic Form
Metre 1101111101 1111110111 1101111111 111111 111111101 1101 1111111101 111010101 1111011111 111111 111111101 1111 1101111101 111111111 111111011 111111 1111111111 1101 1111111101 11010111 110111101 110111 1111001 1111 1101110111 01111011 1101110101 111101 1001011111 1111 1111101 1101111111 11111101 111111 1111010111 1100 1111010111 1101111111 0111111111 11100 111111111 1101 1111111111 1011111111 1111111101 11111 1101110011 1101 1111111111 0101111101 100111111 11101 110111101 1111 1101011101 0111110111 11111111 111101 1111111111 1111 0101111111 111111111 1101001111 110110 1101110101 1101 0101110111 1001011101 111110111 111111 1111110101 1101 1111110101 1101110101 110110111 011111 1111111111 1111 0111110111 011101101 1111110011 111111 1101011101 1111 0111111111 1111111111 011110111 01101 1101111101 1111 1111011101 111111111 1111010111 11111 1111111111 1111 1111111111 1111010101 1111011100 111111 1111111101 0111 1101010111 1110111111 1101111101 111101 1111011111 1101 111101110 010111111 1101010111 1101 1101011111 1101 1111010110 01111
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 4,196
Words 868
Sentences 104
Stanzas 20
Stanza Lengths 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 2
Lines Amount 116
Letters per line (avg) 26
Words per line (avg) 7
Letters per stanza (avg) 151
Words per stanza (avg) 43
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

4:29 min read
61

Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis

Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis, better known as C. J. Dennis, was an Australian poet known for his humorous poems, especially "The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke", published in the early 20th century. Though Dennis's work is less well known today, his 1915 publication of The Sentimental Bloke sold 65,000 copies in its first year, and by 1917 he was the most prosperous poet in Australian history. Together with Banjo Paterson and Henry Lawson, both of whom he had collaborated with, he is often considered among Australia's three most famous poets. While attributed to Lawson by 1911, Dennis later claimed he himself was the 'laureate of the larrikin'. When he died at the age of 61, the Prime Minister of Australia Joseph Lyons suggested he was destined to be remembered as the 'Australian Robert Burns'. more…

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