Analysis of The Party
Paul Laurence Dunbar 1872 (Dayton) – 1906
DEY had a gread big pahty down to Tom's de othah night;
Was I dah? You bet! I neveh in my life see sich a sight;
All de folks f'om fou' plantations was invited, an' dey come,
Dey come troopin' thick ez chillun when dey hyeahs a fife an' drum.
Evahbody dressed deir fines'- Heish yo' mouf an' git away,
Ain't seen no sich fancy dressin' sence las' quah'tly meetin' day;
Gals all dressed in silks an' satins, not a wrinkle ner a crease,
Eyes a-battin', teeth a-shinin', haih breashed back ez slick ez grease;
Sku'ts all tucked an' puffed an' ruffled, evah blessed seam an' stitch;
Ef you'd seen 'em wif deir mistus, coul n't swahed to which was which.
Men all dressed up in Prince Alberts, swaller-tails 'u'd tek yo' bref!
I cain't tell you nothin' 'bout it, y' ought to seen it fu' yo'se'f.
Who was dah? Now who you askin'? How you 'spect I gwine to know?
You mus' think I stood an' coutned evahbody at de do.'
Ole man Babah's house-boy Isaac, brung dat gal, Malindy Jane,
Huh a-hangin' to his elbow, him a-struttin' wif a cane;
My, but Hahvey Jones was jealous! seemed to stick him lak a tho'n;
But he laughed with Viney Cahteh, tryin' ha'd to not let on,
But a pusson would 'a' noticed f'om de d'rection of his look,
Dat he was watchin' ev'ry step dat Ike an' Lindy took.
Ike he foun' a cheer an' asked huh: 'Won't you set down?' wif a smile,
An' she answe'd up a-bowin', 'Oh, I reckon 't ain't wuth while.'
Dat was jes' fu' style I reckon, 'cause she sot down jes' de same,
An' she stayed dah 'twell he fetched huh fu' to jine some so't o' game;
Den I hyeahd huh sayin' propah, ez she riz to go away,
'Oh, you raly mus' excuse me, fu' I hardly keers to play.'
But I seen huh in a minute wif de othahs on de flo',
An' dah was n't any one o' dem a-playin' any mo';
Comin' down de flo' a-bowin' an' a-swayin' an' a-swingin',
Puttin' on huh high-toned mannahs all de time dat she was singin';
'Oh, swing Johnny up an' down, swing him all aroun',
Swing Johnny up an' down, swing him all aroun',
Oh, swing Johnny up an' down, swing him all aroun',
Fa' you well, my dahlin'.'
Had to laff at ole man Johnson, he's a caution now, you bet-
Hittiin' clost onto a hunderd, but he's spry an' nimble yet;
He 'lowed how a-so't o-gigglin', 'I ain't ole, I'll let you see,
D'ain't no use in gittin' feeble, now you youngstahs jes' watch me,'
An' he grabbed ole Aunt Marier- weighs th'ee hunderd mo' er less,
An' he spun huh 'roun' de cabin swingin' Johnny lak de res'.
Evahbody laffed an' hollahed: 'Go it! Swing huh, Uncle Jim!'
An' he swung huh too, I reckon, lak a youngstah, who but him.
Dat was bettah'n young Scott Thomas, tryin' to be so awful smaht.
You know when dey gits to singin' an' dey comes to dat ere paht:
'In some lady's new brick house,
In some lady's gyahden.
Ef you don't let me out, I will jump out,
So fa' you well, my dahlin'.'
Den dey's got a circle 'roun' you, an' you's got to break de line;
Well, dat dahky was so anxious, lak to bust hisse'f a-tryin';
Kep' on blund'rin' 'roun' an' foolin' 'twell he giv' one gread big jump,
Broke de line, an lit head-fo'most in de fiah-place right plump;
Hit 'ad fiah in it, mind you; well, I thought my soul I'd bust,
Tried my best to keep f'om laffin', but hit seemed like die I must!
Y' ought to seen dat man a-scramblin' f'om de ashes an' de grime.
Did it bu'n him! Sich a question, why he did n't give it time;
Th'ow'd dem ashes and dem cindahs evah which-a-way I guess,
An' you nevah did, I reckon, clap yo' eyes on sich a mess;
Fu' he sholy made a picter an' a funny one to boot,
Wif his clothes all full o' ashes an' his face all full o' soot.
Well, hit laked to stopped de pahty, an' I reckon lak ez not
Dat it would ef Tom's wife, Mandy, had n't happened on de spot,
To invite us out to suppah - well, we scrambed to de table,
An' I'd lak to tell you ' 'bout it - what we had - but I ain't able,
Mention jes' a few things, dough I know I had n't orter,
Fu' I know 't will staht a hank'rin' an' yo' muouf'll 'mence to worter.
We had wheat bread white ez cotton an' a egg pone jues like gol',
Hog jole, bilin' hot an' steamin' roasted shoat an' ham sliced cold -
Look out! What's de mattah wif you? Don't be fallin' on de flo';
Ef it's go'n' to 'fect you dat way, I won't tell you nothin' mo'.
Dah now - well, we had hot chttlin's - now you's tryin' ag 'in to fall,
Cain't you stan' to hyeah about it? S'pose you'd been an' seed it all;
Seed dem gread big sweet pertaters, layin' by de possum's side,
Seed dat coon in all his gravy, reckon den you'd up and died!
Mandy 'lowed 'you all mus' 'scuse me, d' wa'n't much upon my she'ves,
But I's done my bes', to suit you,
Scheme | aabbccddeeffghiijkllmmnnccggggGgGoppqqrsttaaugvowgxxyyzzrr1 2 3 3 4 4 5 5 m6 gg7 7 8 8 dh |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 110111111111 11111110111101 11111101010111 1111111110111 11111111101 111110111111 111011101010101 10101011111111 1111111011111 111111111111111 11110110111111 111111011111111111 111111011111111 11111111111 111111011111 101111101101 111111011111011 1111101111111 1011010111111 111111111101 111011111111101 11110111101111 111111101111111 1111111111111111 1111111111101 11110111110111 11110010111111 111111011101101 111101101101 1111111111111 11101111111 1101111111 11101111111 111110 111111101010111 1110011111101 111011111111111 1110110111111 1111110011111101 11111110110111 11111111101 11111110101111 11111101111101 11111111111111 0110111 01101 1111111111 1111110 111010111111111 1111110111101 1111111111111 1111111011111 11101111111111 111111101111111 111111011110111 1111101011111111 111110011110111 11111101111101 1111011010111 111111101111111 11111111110111 1111111011110111 10111111111110 1111111111111110 10101111111111 11111101111111 111111101011111 1111111011111 11111111110111 1111111111111101 11111111111011 11111101111111111 11111111111 111011101011101 10111111111110111 11111111 |
Closest metre | Iambic octameter |
Characters | 4,550 |
Words | 919 |
Sentences | 34 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 76 |
Lines Amount | 76 |
Letters per line (avg) | 43 |
Words per line (avg) | 12 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 3,303 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 911 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 16, 2023
- 4:54 min read
- 288 Views
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"The Party" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 10 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/28930/the-party>.
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