Belts
There was a row in Silver Street that's near to Dublin Quay,Between an Irish regiment an' English cavalree;It started at Revelly an' it lasted on till dark:The first man dropped at Harrison's, the last forninst the Park.For it was: -- “Belts, belts, belts, an' that's one for you!”An' it was “Belts, belts, belts, an' that's done for you!”O buckle an' tongueWas the song that we sungFrom Harrison's down to the Park!
There was a row in Silver Street -- the regiments was out,They called us “Delhi Rebels”, an' we answered “Threes about!”That drew them like a hornet's nest -- we met them good an' large,The English at the double an' the Irish at the charge.Then it was: -- “Belts . . .
There was a row in Silver Street -- an' I was in it too;We passed the time o' day, an' then the belts went whirraru!I misremember what occurred, but subsequint the stormA Freeman's Journal Supplemint was all my uniform.O it was: -- “Belts . . .
There was a row in Silver Street -- they sent the Polis there,The English were too drunk to know, the Irish didn't care;But when they grew impertinint we simultaneous rose,Till half o' them was Liffey mud an' half was tatthered clo'es.For it was: -- “Belts . . .
There was a row in Silver Street -- it might ha' raged till now,But some one drew his side-arm clear, an' nobody knew how;'Twas Hogan took the point an' dropped; we saw the red blood run:An' so we all was murderers that started out in fun.While it was: -- “Belts . . .
There was a row in Silver Street -- but that put down the shine,Wid each man whisperin' to his next: “'Twas never work o' mine!”We went away like beaten dogs, an' down the street we bore him,The poor dumb corpse that couldn't tell the bhoys were sorry for him.When it was: -- “Belts . . .
There was a row in Silver Street -- it isn't over yet,For half of us are under guard wid punishments to get;'Tis all a merricle to me as in the Clink I lie:There was a row in Silver Street -- begod, I wonder why!But it was: -- “Belts, belts, belts, an' that's one for you!”An' it was “Belts, belts, belts, an' that's done for you!”O buckle an' tongueWas the song that we sungFrom Harrison's down to the Park!
Words in this poem
- quay n.
- A mole, bank, or wharf, formed toward the sea, or at the side of a harbor, river, or other navigable water, for convenience in loading and unloading vessels. [F. quai. See Key quay.]
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
- misremember v. t.
- To mistake in remembering; not to remember correctly. Sir T.
- nobody n.
- No person; no one; not anybody. [No, a. + body.]
- corpse n.
- A human body in general, whether living or dead; -- sometimes contemptuosly. [OF. cors (sometimes written corps), F. corps, L. corpus; akin to AS. hrif womb. See Midriff, and cf. Corse, Corselet, Corps, Cuerpo.]
- clink v. t.
- To cause to give out a slight, sharp, tinkling, sound, as by striking metallic or other sonorous bodies together. [OE. clinken; akin to G. klingen, D. klinken, SW. klinga, Dan. klinge; prob. of imitative origin. Cf. Clank, Clench, Click, v. i.]
- begod v. t.
- To exalt to the dignity of a god; to deify.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Belts is in the public domain. This text is taken from Verses 1889-1896, Project Gutenberg ebook #323; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Rudyard Kipling, Belts, in Verses 1889–1896 (1889–1896), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #323, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/kipling-verses/belts.html, id L16751.
Form and metre
Belts is 43 lines in 7 verse paragraphs. It is in rhyming couplets, 79% of the lines. The metre is iambic heptameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 83%). 96% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 11.4 syllables. 12% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in rhyming couplets, other poems in iambic heptameter.
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 AABBCCDDB quayA · cavalreeA · darkB · parkB · youC · youC · tongueD · sungD · parkB
- 2 AABB- outA · aboutA · largeB · chargeB · belts
- 3 --AA- too · whirraru · stormA · uniformA · belts
- 4 AABB- thereA · careA · roseB · clo'esB · belts
- 5 AABB- nowA · howA · runB · funB · belts
- 6 AABB- shineA · mineA · himB · himB · belts
- 7 AABBCCDD- yetA · getA · lieB · whyB · youC · youC · tongueD · sungD · park
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 heptameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| There was a row in Silver Street that's near to Dublin Quay, | 14 | ·····/˘····/˘· |
| Between an Irish regiment an' English cavalree; | 13 | ···/˘/˘·/˘··· |
| It started at Revelly an' it lasted on till dark: | 14 | ·/˘······/˘··· |
| The first man dropped at Harrison's, the last forninst the Park. | 13 | ·····/˘······ |
| For it was: -- “Belts, belts, belts, an' that's one for you!” | 11 | ··········· |
| An' it was “Belts, belts, belts, an' that's done for you!” | 11 | ··········· |
| O buckle an' tongue | 5 | ·/˘·· |
| Was the song that we sung | 6 | ······ |
| From Harrison's down to the Park! | 8 | ·/˘˘···· |
| There was a row in Silver Street -- the regiments was out, | 13 | ·····/˘··/˘·· |
| They called us “Delhi Rebels”, an' we answered “Threes about!” | 14 | ···/˘/˘··/˘··· |
| That drew them like a hornet's nest -- we met them good an' large, | 14 | ·····/˘······· |
| The English at the double an' the Irish at the charge. | 14 | ·/˘··/˘··/˘··· |
| Then it was: -- “Belts . . . | 4 | ···· |
| There was a row in Silver Street -- an' I was in it too; | 14 | ·····/˘······· |
| We passed the time o' day, an' then the belts went whirraru! | 14 | ·············· |
| I misremember what occurred, but subsequint the storm | 13 | ·˘/˘·˘/······ |
| A Freeman's Journal Supplemint was all my uniform. | 14 | ·/˘/˘······/˘· |
| O it was: -- “Belts . . . | 4 | ···· |
| There was a row in Silver Street -- they sent the Polis there, | 14 | ·····/˘····/˘· |
| The English were too drunk to know, the Irish didn't care; | 14 | ·/˘······/˘/˘· |
| But when they grew impertinint we simultaneous rose, | 14 | ··········˘/˘· |
| Till half o' them was Liffey mud an' half was tatthered clo'es. | 14 | ·············· |
| For it was: -- “Belts . . . | 4 | ···· |
| There was a row in Silver Street -- it might ha' raged till now, | 14 | ·····/˘······· |
| But some one drew his side-arm clear, an' nobody knew how; | 14 | ·········/···· |
| 'Twas Hogan took the point an' dropped; we saw the red blood run: | 14 | ·/············ |
| An' so we all was murderers that started out in fun. | 13 | ·····/˘·/˘··· |
| While it was: -- “Belts . . . | 4 | ···· |
| There was a row in Silver Street -- but that put down the shine, | 14 | ·····/˘······· |
| Wid each man whisperin' to his next: “'Twas never work o' mine!” | 14 | ··········/··· |
| We went away like beaten dogs, an' down the street we bore him, | 15 | ··˘/·/˘········ |
| The poor dumb corpse that couldn't tell the bhoys were sorry for him. | 15 | ·····/˘····/˘·· |
| When it was: -- “Belts . . . | 4 | ···· |
| There was a row in Silver Street -- it isn't over yet, | 13 | ·····/˘··/˘·· |
| For half of us are under guard wid punishments to get; | 13 | ·········/˘·· |
| 'Tis all a merricle to me as in the Clink I lie: | 14 | ·············· |
| There was a row in Silver Street -- begod, I wonder why! | 14 | ·····/˘·˘/·/˘· |
| But it was: -- “Belts, belts, belts, an' that's one for you!” | 11 | ··········· |
| An' it was “Belts, belts, belts, an' that's done for you!” | 11 | ··········· |
| O buckle an' tongue | 5 | ·/˘·· |
| Was the song that we sung | 6 | ······ |
| From Harrison's down to the Park! | 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.