Analysis of The Great God Guff



There was once a Simple People - (you, of course, will understand
This is just a little fable of a non-existent land)
There was once a Simple People, and they had a Simple King,
And his name - well, SMITH the First will do as well as anything
And they lived upon an island by a pleasant southern sea,
Which they boastfully referred to as the 'Country of the Free.'
This King SMITH was quite a model.  He was kind and he was wise.
But, alas! a higher sovereign he was forced to recognise.

As in ev'ry age and nation, since the tale of man was known,
Superstition here existed as the power behind the throne.
It was vague and unsubstantial but its sway was plain enough,
And 'twas known upon the island, simply, as the Great God GUFF.
They made sacrifices to it, treasure, corn and slaughtered beasts,
Good King SMITH cringed to the idol where upon his throne he sat;
And the People feared it greatly; and the priests grew very fat.

Now, the welfare of the priestcraft did not always coincide
With the welfare of the People, hence the wily priests relied
On the hoary superstition that had stood the test of years;
Thus they led both king and people by their rather ass-like ears;
Crying: 'GUFF was ever with us!  GUFF the Great must be obeyed!
GUFF the god must be consulted ere a single law be made!'
And the very simple People with their very simple King
Bowed their heads and said, 'So be it.  GUFF be served in ev'rything.'

So the nation muddled somehow on its island by the sea -
Simple superstitious people in their 'Country of the Free.'
And whene'er they yearned for Progress, as things drifted to the worst,
SMITH replied, 'Have patience, people.  GUFF must be consulted first.
Other lands and other nations may progress without his aid;
But upon our native island never rule or law is made
Till his priests have pondered o'er it, seeking to divine his will.
So it was with our forefathers, so with us it must be still.'

Came a time when folk grew restive, murmurming amongst themselves,
While the nation's schemes and projects lay neglected on the shelves.
Then arose amid the people one of singular renown -
Since his name the eld refuses, let us call him, simply, BROWN.
BROWN was something of a student, strong on things like common-sense;
He was plain and blunt and forceful; and he hated smug pretence.
And before the priests and people, in a manner rude and gruff,
He arose and put this question, briefly: 'Who and what is GUFF?'

Loud the People shrieked in terror; and the High-Priest threw a fit;
And the king rose from his dias as his eye with anger lit.
'He blasphemes!' declared the monarch. 'Sieze the sacrilegious brute!
Great God GUFF may not be questioned! He is mighty! absolute!'
But BROWN stood his ground and answered, 'Oh, I'm sick of all that stuff!
Give me one clear definition: What's the bloomon' use of GUFF?
He's a silly superstition! and I'll prove to you, King SMITH,
If you'll give me just five minutes, that your idol is a myth.'

Well, to bring a simple story to a sudden, simple end,
BROWN beat down all opposition, and affairs began to mend.
Good King SMITH, with seemly wisdom, on his idol turned his back;
And, without much fuss, the People simply gave old GUFF the sack.
And the priests?  Well, some took service with the king, and so reformed;
Some adopted Christian Science; some in vain still raved and stormed;
Others strove to mend their fortunes with an Independent Kirk;
Some became mere weather prophets; some - a paltry few - got work.

So they thrived, the simple People, on their island by the sea;
And their schemes and projects prospered, for the land, at last, was free.
SMITH the First, emancipated, o'er a happy country ruled.
And he smiled when he reflected how the nation had been fooled;
How the simple King and People, by a superstition cursed.
Ever cried in foolish terror: 'GUFF must be consulted first!'
And the last words of that monarch long were treasured in the land . . .
But, of course, it's all a fable, as you'll clearly uderstand.

Yet - there lives a simple People on an island by the sea,
And a simple Monarch rules them called the King DEMOCRACY.
Rather, does he seek to rule them, but his will is warped and bent
By a childish superstition known as 'Party Government.'
And the idol has its priestcraft that pretends to lead the race;
Though they call them 'Politicians' in this later year of grace.
And whene'er the folk grow restive, as things drift from worse to worst,
Cry the priests, 'Behold the Party! It must be considered first!'

And the simple, sim


Scheme AABBCCXC DDEEXFF GGHHIIBB CCJJIIKK LLMMXCEE NNOOEEPP QQRRSSTT CCUUJJAA CCXXVVJJ X
Poetic Form
Metre 11101010111101 111010101010101 111010100110101 01111011111110 011011101010101 1110111010101 111110101110111 1010101011111 10110101011111 010101010100101 111011111101 011010101010111 11100111010101 111110101011111 001011100011101 10110111101 10110101010101 10100101110111 111110101110111 101110111011101 101110101010111 001010101110101 1110111111101 10101011110101 10010100110101 0111111110101 101110101110101 10101010110111 1011010101011111 1111101011010111 111110101111111 1011111010101 101010101010101 101010101110001 111010101111101 111010101111101 11101010011011 001010100010101 101011101010111 101010100011101 001111101111101 110101100101 11111110111010 111110101111111 1111010101111 10100100111111 111111101110101 111010101010101 11110100010111 11111101110111 001110101011101 001111101010101 101010101011101 10111110110101 101110101010111 111010101110101 011010101011111 101010010010101 011110101010111 10101010100101 101010101110101 00111111010001 1111101011101 111010101110101 00101111010100 101111111111101 10100101110100 00101111011101 11110100110111 01011101111111 101010101110101 00101
Closest metre Iambic octameter
Characters 4,466
Words 828
Sentences 51
Stanzas 10
Stanza Lengths 8, 7, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 1
Lines Amount 72
Letters per line (avg) 49
Words per line (avg) 11
Letters per stanza (avg) 352
Words per stanza (avg) 82
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

4:09 min read
113

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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