Analysis of The Intro
Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis 1876 (Auburn) – 1938 (Melbourne)
'Er name's Doreen ...Well, spare me bloomin' days!
You could er knocked me down wiv 'arf a brick!
Yes, me, that kids meself I know their ways,
An' 'as a name for smoogin' in our click!
I just lines up 'an tips the saucy wink.
But strike! The way she piled on dawg! Yer'd think
A bloke was givin' back-chat to the Queen....
'Er name's Doreen.
I seen 'er in the markit first uv all,
Inspectin' brums at Steeny Isaacs' stall.
I backs me barrer in - the same ole way --
An' sez, 'Wot O! It's been a bonzer day.
'Ow is it fer a walk?' ... Oh, 'oly wars!
The sorta look she gimme! Jest becors
I tried to chat 'er, like you'd make a start
Wiv any tart.
An' I kin take me oaf I wus perlite.
An' never said no word that wasn't right,
An' never tried to maul 'er, or to do
A thing yeh might call croook. Ter tell yeh true,
I didn't seem to 'ave the nerve -- wiv 'er.
I felt as if I couldn't go that fur,
An' start to sling of chiack like I used...
Not intrajuiced!
Nex' time I sighted 'er in Little Bourke,
Where she was in a job. I found 'er lurk
Wus pastin' labels in a pickle joint,
A game that -- any'ow, that ain't the point.
Once more I tried to chat 'er in the street,
But, bli'me! Did she turn me down a treat!
The way she tossed 'er head an' swished 'er skirt!
Oh, it wus dirt!
A squarer tom, I swear, I never seen,
In all me natchril, than this 'ere Doreen.
It wer'n't no guyver neither; fer I knoo
That any other bloke 'ad Buckley's 'oo
Tried fer to pick 'er up. Yes, she was square.
She jest sailed by an' lef me standin' there
Like any mug. Thinks I, 'I'm out er luck,'
And done a duck.
Well, I dunno. It's that way wiv a bloke.
If she'd ha' breasted up ter me an' spoke.
I'd thort 'er jist a common bit er fluff,
An' then fergot about 'er, like enough.
It's jest like this. The tarts that's 'ard ter get
Makes you all 'ot to chase 'em, an' to let
The cove called Cupid get a 'ammer-lock;
An' lose yer block.
I know a bloke 'oo knows a bloke 'oo toils
In that same pickle found-ery. ('E boils
The cabbitch storks or somethink.) Anyway,
I gives me pal the orfis fer to say
'E 'as a sister in the trade 'oo's been
Out uv a jorb, an' wants ter meet Doreen;
Then we kin get an into, if we've luck.
'E sez, 'Ribuck.'
O' course we worked the oricle; you bet!
But, 'struth, I ain't recovered frum it yet!
'Twas on a Saturdee, in Colluns Street,
An' - quite by accident, o' course -- we meet.
Me pal 'e trots 'er up an' does the toff --
'E allus wus a bloke fer showin' off.
'This ere's Doreen,' 'e sez. 'This 'ere's the Kid.'
I dips me lid.
'This 'ere's Doreen,' 'e sez. I sez 'Good day.'
An' bli'me, I 'ad nothin' more ter say!
I couldn't speak a word, or meet 'er eye.
Clean done me block! I never been so shy,
Not since I was a tiny little cub,
An' run the rabbit to the corner pub --
Wot time the Summer days wus dry and 'ot --
Fer me ole pot.
Me! that 'as barracked tarts, an' torked an' larft,
An' chucked orf at 'em like a phonergraft!
Gorstrooth! I seemed to lose me pow'r o' speech.
But 'er! Oh, strike me pink! She is a peach!
The sweetest in the barrer! Spare me days,
I carn't describe that cliner's winnin' ways.
The way she torks! 'Er lips! 'Er eyes! 'Er hair! ...
Oh, gimme air!
I dunno 'ow I done it in the end.
I reckerlect I arst ter be 'er friend;
An' tried to play at 'andies in the park,
A thing she wouldn't sight. Aw, it's a nark!
I gotter swear when I think wot a mug
I must 'a' seemed to 'er. But still I 'ug
That promise she give me fer the beach.
The bonzer peach!
Now, as the poit sez, the days drag by
On ledding feet. I wish't they'd do a guy.
I dunno 'ow I 'ad the nerve ter speak,
An' make that meet wiv 'er fer Sundee week!
But strike! It's funny wot a bloke'll do
When 'e's all out ... She's gorn, when I come-to.
I'm yappin' to me cobber uv me mash....
I've done me dash!
'Er name's Doreen....An' me -- that thort I knoo
The ways uv tarts, an' all that smoogin' game!
An' so I ort; fer ain't I known a few?
Yet some'ow ... I dunno. It ain't the same.
I carn't tell wot it is; but all I know,
I've dropped me bundle -- an' I'm glad it's so.
Fer when I come ter think uv wot I been....
'Er name's Doreen.
Scheme | ababccdD eeffxagg hhiijjxg kkllmmnn dddxoopp qqrrsstt uuffvdpb ssmmrxww ffxxyyxx ggzzaaoo 1 1 xbxbzz xx2 2 ii3 3 d4 i4 5 5 vd |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 010111111 1101111101 111111111 1101110101 1111110101 1101111111 011111101 0101 110001111 1111101 111100111 111111011 111101111 01111011 1111011101 1101 1111111110 1101111101 1101110111 0111111111 1101110110 1111110111 111111111 11 1111000101 1110011101 111000101 0111011101 1111110001 111111101 0111011101 1111 011111101 011111101 111110111 110101111 1111011111 111111111 1101111101 0101 1101111101 1111011111 1101010101 111010101 1111011111 1111111111 011101011 1111 1101110111 011101111 0111110 111101111 1101000111 1101111101 1111101111 111 11110111 1111010111 1101011 1111001111 1111011101 11101111 1101111101 1111 1101111111 111110111 1101011101 1111110111 1111010101 1101010101 1101011101 1111 111111111 11111101 1111111111 1011111101 010001111 111011111 0111010101 1101 1011111001 11111101 111111001 0111011101 111111101 1101101111 110111101 011 110110111 1111111101 1011110111 111110111 111101011 1111111111 11111111 1111 01111111 011111111 1111111101 1111011101 11111111111 1111011111 1111111111 0101 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 4,270 |
Words | 858 |
Sentences | 95 |
Stanzas | 13 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8 |
Lines Amount | 104 |
Letters per line (avg) | 28 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 223 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 67 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 4:30 min read
- 53 Views
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"The Intro" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 19 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/6686/the-intro>.
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