Golyer
Ef the way a man lights out of this worldHelps fix his heft for the other sp'ere,I reckon my old friend Golyer's BenWill lay over lots of likelier menFor one thing he done down here.
You didn't know Ben? He driv a stageOn the line they called the Old Sou'-west;He wa'n't the best man that ever you seen,And he wa'n't so ungodly pizen mean,--No better nor worse than the rest.
He was hard on women and rough on his friends;And he didn't have many, I'll let you know;He hated a dog and disgusted a cat,But he'd run off his legs for a motherless brat,And I guess there's many jess so.
I've seed my sheer of the run of things,I've hoofed it a many and many a miled,But I never seed nothing that could or canJest git all the good from the heart of a manLike the hands of a little child.
Well! this young one I started to tell you about,--His folks was all dead, I was fetchin' him through,--He was just at the age that's loudest for boys,And he blowed such a horn with his sarchin' small voice,We called him "the Little Boy Blue."
He ketched a sight of Ben on the box,And you bet he bawled and kicked and howled,For to git 'long of Ben, and ride thar too;I tried to tell him it wouldn't do,When suddingly Golyer growled,
"What's the use of making the young one cry?Say, what's the use of being a fool?Sling the little one up here whar he can see,He won't git the snuffles a-ridin' with me,The night ain't any too cool."
The child hushed cryin' the minute he spoke;"Come up here, Major! don't let him slip."And jest as nice as a woman could do,He wropped his blanket around them two,And was off in the crack of a whip.
We rattled along an hour or so,Till we heerd a yell on the still night air.Did you ever hear an Apache yell?Well, ye needn't want to, THIS side of hell;There's nothing more devilish there.
Caught in the shower of lead and flint,We felt the old stage stagger and plunge;Then we heerd the voice and the whip of Ben,As he gethered his critters up again,And tore away with a lunge.
The passengers laughed. "Old Ben's all right,He's druv five year and never was struck.""Now if I'd been thar, as sure as you live,They'd 'a' plugged me with holes as thick as a sieve;It's the reg'lar Golyer luck."
Over hill and holler and ford and creek,Jest like the hosses had wings, we tore;We got to Looney's, and Ben come inAnd laid down the baby and axed for his gin,And dropped in a heap on the floor.
Said he, "When they fired, I kivered the kid,--Although I ain't pretty, I'm middlin' broad;And look! he ain't fazed by arrow nor ball,--Thank God! my own carcase stopped them all."Then we seen his eye glaze, and his lower jaw fall,--And he carried his thanks to God.
Words in this poem
- heft n.
- The act or effort of heaving [From Heave: cf. hefe weight. Cf. Haft.]
- ungodly a.
- Not godly; not having regard for God; disobedient to God; wicked; impious; sinful.
- motherless a.
- Destitute of a mother; having lost a mother; as, motherless children. [AS. modorleás.]
- brat n.
- A coarse garnment or cloak; also, coarse clothing, in general. [OE. bratt coarse garnment, AS. bratt cloak, fr. the Celtic; cf. W. brat clout, rag, Gael. brat cloak, apron, raf, Ir. brat cloak; properly then, a child's bib o]
- jess n.
- A short strap of leather or silk secured round the leg of a hawk, to which the leash or line, wrapped round the falconer's hand, was attached when used. See Illust. of Falcon. [OF. gies, giez, prop. pl. of giet, get, jet, F. jet, a throwing, jess. See Jet a shooting forth.]
- jest n.
- A deed; an action; a gest. [OE. jeste, geste, deed, action, story, tale, OF. geste, LL. gesta, orig., exploits, neut. pl. from L. gestus, p. p. of gerere to bear, carry, accomplish, perfor]
- folks n.
- In Anglo-Saxon times, the people of a group of townships or villages; a community; a tribe. [AS. folc; akin to D. volk, OS. & OHG. folk, G. volk, Icel. f, Sw. & Dan. folk, Lith. pulkas crowd, and perh. to E. follow.]
- thar v.
- It needs; need. Piers Plowman. [OE. thar, Þarf, AS. Þearf, infin. Þurfan to need; akin to OHG. durfan, G. dürfen to be allowed, Icel. Þurfa to need, Goth. Þaúrban.]
- spoke n.
- The radius or ray of a wheel; one of the small bars which are inserted in the hub, or nave, and which serve to support the rim or felly. [OE. spoke, spake, AS, spaca; akin to D. speek, LG. speke, OHG. speihha, G. speiche. sq. root170. Cf. Spike a nail.]
- tore n.
- The dead grass that remains on mowing land in winter and spring. Mortimer. [Probably from the root of tear; cf. W. tór a break, cut, tóri to break, cut.]
- thank n.
- A expression of gratitude; an acknowledgment expressive of a sense of favor or kindness received; obligation, claim, or desert, or gratitude; -- now generally used in the plural. [AS. Þanc, Þonc, thanks, favor, thought; akin to OS. thank favor, pleasure, thanks, D. & G. dank thanks, Icel. Þ\'94kk, Dan. tak, Sw. tack, Goth. Þagks thanks; -]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Golyer is in the public domain. This text is taken from Pike County Ballads and Other Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #6062; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: John Hay, Golyer, in Pike County Ballads and Other Poems (1871), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #6062, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/hay-pike-county/golyer.html, id L21574.
Form and metre
Golyer is 66 lines in 13 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 74%).
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 --AA- world · sp'ere · benA · menA · here
- 2 -ABBA stage · westA · seenB · meanB · restA
- 3 -ABBA friends · knowA · catB · bratB · soA
- 4 -ABBA things · miledA · canB · manB · childA
- 5 -A--A about · throughA · boys · voice · blueA
- 6 -ABBA box · howledA · tooB · doB · growledA
- 7 ABAAB cryA · foolB · seeA · meA · coolB
- 8 -ABBA spoke · slipA · doB · twoB · whipA
- 9 -ABBA so · airA · yellB · hellB · thereA
- 10 -ABBA flint · plungeA · benB · againB · lungeA
- 11 -ABBA right · struckA · liveB · sieveB · luckA
- 12 -ABBA creek · toreA · inB · ginB · floorA
- 13 --AAA- kid · broad · ballA · allA · fallA · god
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Ef the way a man lights out of this world | 10 | ·········· |
| Helps fix his heft for the other sp'ere, | 9 | ······/˘· |
| I reckon my old friend Golyer's Ben | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| Will lay over lots of likelier men | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| For one thing he done down here. | 7 | ······· |
| You didn't know Ben? He driv a stage | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| On the line they called the Old Sou'-west; | 9 | ········· |
| He wa'n't the best man that ever you seen, | 9 | ······/·· |
| And he wa'n't so ungodly pizen mean,-- | 10 | ····˘/˘··· |
| No better nor worse than the rest. | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| He was hard on women and rough on his friends; | 11 | ····/˘····· |
| And he didn't have many, I'll let you know; | 10 | ··/˘·/···· |
| He hated a dog and disgusted a cat, | 11 | ·/˘···˘/˘·· |
| But he'd run off his legs for a motherless brat, | 11 | ········/˘· |
| And I guess there's many jess so. | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| I've seed my sheer of the run of things, | 9 | ········· |
| I've hoofed it a many and many a miled, | 9 | ····/·/·· |
| But I never seed nothing that could or can | 10 | ··/·/˘···· |
| Jest git all the good from the heart of a man | 11 | ··········· |
| Like the hands of a little child. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Well! this young one I started to tell you about,-- | 12 | ·····/˘····· |
| His folks was all dead, I was fetchin' him through,-- | 11 | ··········· |
| He was just at the age that's loudest for boys, | 11 | ·······/˘·· |
| And he blowed such a horn with his sarchin' small voice, | 12 | ············ |
| We called him "the Little Boy Blue." | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| He ketched a sight of Ben on the box, | 9 | ········· |
| And you bet he bawled and kicked and howled, | 9 | ········· |
| For to git 'long of Ben, and ride thar too; | 10 | ·········· |
| I tried to tell him it wouldn't do, | 9 | ······/˘· |
| When suddingly Golyer growled, | 8 | ·······˘ |
| "What's the use of making the young one cry? | 10 | ····/˘···· |
| Say, what's the use of being a fool? | 8 | ·····/·· |
| Sling the little one up here whar he can see, | 11 | ··/˘······· |
| He won't git the snuffles a-ridin' with me, | 10 | ·········· |
| The night ain't any too cool." | 7 | ···/˘·· |
| The child hushed cryin' the minute he spoke; | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| "Come up here, Major! don't let him slip." | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| And jest as nice as a woman could do, | 10 | ······/˘·· |
| He wropped his blanket around them two, | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| And was off in the crack of a whip. | 9 | ········· |
| We rattled along an hour or so, | 9 | ·/˘˘/·/·· |
| Till we heerd a yell on the still night air. | 10 | ·········· |
| Did you ever hear an Apache yell? | 9 | ··/··˘/˘· |
| Well, ye needn't want to, THIS side of hell; | 10 | ··/˘······ |
| There's nothing more devilish there. | 7 | ·/˘·/˘· |
| Caught in the shower of lead and flint, | 8 | ···/···· |
| We felt the old stage stagger and plunge; | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| Then we heerd the voice and the whip of Ben, | 10 | ·········· |
| As he gethered his critters up again, | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| And tore away with a lunge. | 7 | ··˘/··· |
| The passengers laughed. "Old Ben's all right, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| He's druv five year and never was struck." | 8 | ·····/·· |
| "Now if I'd been thar, as sure as you live, | 10 | ·········· |
| They'd 'a' plugged me with holes as thick as a sieve; | 11 | ··········· |
| It's the reg'lar Golyer luck." | 7 | ······· |
| Over hill and holler and ford and creek, | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| Jest like the hosses had wings, we tore; | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| We got to Looney's, and Ben come in | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| And laid down the baby and axed for his gin, | 11 | ····/˘····· |
| And dropped in a heap on the floor. | 8 | ········ |
| Said he, "When they fired, I kivered the kid,-- | 10 | ····/····· |
| Although I ain't pretty, I'm middlin' broad; | 10 | ····/˘···· |
| And look! he ain't fazed by arrow nor ball,-- | 10 | ······/˘·· |
| Thank God! my own carcase stopped them all." | 9 | ····/˘··· |
| Then we seen his eye glaze, and his lower jaw fall,-- | 11 | ········/·· |
| And he carried his thanks to God. | 8 | ··/˘···· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.