Monday's Poetry: "The Goose"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

Yesterday I noted in this space that Fiona has four beautiful kittens  in a nesting box on the floor of the chicken coop.   Mother and her little ones are still doing fine.

One of my five geese has set up a nest on the floor of the coop not too far from Fiona's "nest."  This morning as  Mama Goose hopped off of her nest and went in search of breakfast, I was able to count the eggs - thirteen - a baker's dozen.   Mama Goose is one of the smarter fowl on the farm.  In the afternoons when I scatter dry dog food, she is the only one of her species who rushes forward to eat.  Dog food is high in protein which probably helps in the egg production process.

Anyway, things are multiplying in the coop.

Today's poem, "The Goose," was written by Alfred, Lord Tennyson in 1842.  It is supposedly an allegory dealing with Britain's Reform Bill agitation of the times, and is Tennyson's way of showing how illusory the bills advantages to the poor really were.  The goose's clatter and clamor that eventually drive the old woman over the edge represent the social anarchy that would result from passage of the radical proposal.

Lifting-up the poor did not seem to be a priority of Tennyson.   If transported to modern times, he might have earned a living as a Fox News commentator.

Sadly, none of my Mama Goose's eggs are golden.  I checked.  Pa Rock appears destined to remain among the needy and noisy rabble.


The Goose
by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

  I knew an old wife lean and poor,
  Her rags scarce held together;
  There strode a stranger to the door,
  And it was windy weather.



  He held a goose upon his arm,
  He utter'd rhyme and reason,
  "Here, take the goose, and keep you warm,
  It is a stormy season".



  She caught the white goose by the leg,
  A goose--'twas no great matter.
  The goose let fall a golden egg
  With cackle and with clatter.



  She dropt the goose, and caught the pelf,
  And ran to tell her neighbours;
  And bless'd herself, and cursed herself,
  And rested from her labours.



  And feeding high, and living soft,
  Grew plump and able-bodied;
  Until the grave churchwarden doff'd,
  The parson smirk'd and nodded.



  So sitting, served by man and maid,
  She felt her heart grow prouder:
  But, ah! the more the white goose laid
  It clack'd and cackled louder.



  It clutter'd here, it chuckled there;
  It stirr'd the old wife's mettle:
  She shifted in her elbow-chair,
  And hurl'd the pan and kettle.



  "A quinsy choke thy cursed note!"
  Then wax'd her anger stronger:
  "Go, take the goose, and wring her throat,
  I will not bear it longer".



  Then yelp'd the cur, and yawl'd the cat;
  Ran Gaffer, stumbled Gammer.
  The goose flew this way and flew that,
  And fill'd the house with clamour.



  As head and heels upon the floor
  They flounder'd all together,
  There strode a stranger to the door,
  And it was windy weather:



  He took the goose upon his arm,
  He utter'd words of scorning;
  "So keep you cold, or keep you warm,
  It is a stormy morning".



  The wild wind rang from park and plain,
  And round the attics rumbled,
  Till all the tables danced again,
  And half the chimneys tumbled.



  The glass blew in, the fire blew out,
  The blast was hard and harder.
  Her cap blew off, her gown blew up,
  And a whirlwind clear'd the larder;



  And while on all sides breaking loose
  Her household fled the danger,
  Quoth she, "The Devil take the goose,
  And God forget the stranger!"