Refreshingly, instead of the disgusting whine that flows out from many poems with similar themes, this speaker manages to remain dignified, and even humble.
Please note: The spelling, "rhyme," was introduced into English by Dr. Samuel Johnson through an etymological error. For my explanation for using only the original form, please see " Rime vs Rhyme: An Unfortunate Error. Some are teethed on a silver spoon, With the stars strung for a rattle; I cut my teeth as the black raccoon— For implements of battle.
Some are swaddled in silk and down, And heralded by a star; They swathed my limbs in a sackcloth gown On a night that was black as tar. For some, godfather and goddame The opulent fairies be; Dame Poverty gave me my name, And Pain godfathered me. For I was born on Saturday— "Bad time for planting a seed," Was all my father had to say, And, "One mouth more to feed. Death cut the strings that gave me life, And handed me to Sorrow, The only kind of middle wife My folks could beg or borrow. In the first stanza, the speaker begins the allusion to Mother Goose by transforming the "born with a silver spoon in his mouth" into "[s]ome are teethed on a silver spoon.
Continuing the wealthy baby allusion, the speaker further adds that instead of plastic rattle toys, the rich can afford to have the very stars in heaven clanging from their rattlers. The speaker, however, was not born among the folks who can afford silver spoons and star-studded rattles; he was to "cut his teeth as the black raccoon" for battle gear. His poor bred situation, however, turned out to be great boon.
Instead of riches in material value, he gains the riches of independence and became self-reliant, not depending on parents who could offer but little materially. The speaker reports that some folk are born into comfortable even opulent circumstances.
I would drive myself to get the work done and end up poorly just at the start of annual leave. I bet this sounds familiar to many of you. This is probably not something that anybody who knows me would associate with me! One time, a few years ago I developed a truly horrible chest infection — yes, it started at the beginning of a week off. Of course. It completely knocked me for six. I felt so weak. A Child born on Friday, shall be of a strong Constitution, but very letcherous; and if it be a Female, she is in great danger of turning Whore.
A Child born on Saturday, shall be dull and heavy, and of a dogged Disposition, and seldom come to good. Monday's child is fair of face Tuesday's child is full of grace Wednesday's child is full of woe Thursday's child has far to go Friday's child is loving and giving Saturday's child works for its living And a child that's born on the Sabbath day Is fair and wise and good and gay.
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