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While staying at the Ansonia Hotel in New York City Mr. Service drafted on nine pages of the hotel stationary his poem, The Faceless Man. It is written in pencil.

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This poem is often wrongly thought to be by Robert W Service. It is published here to the memory of Hugh Antoine D'Arcy, its rightful father.
An Evening with the Bard of the Yukon, July 18 th 2003 at 20.30pm in the Town-Hall of Lancieux, Brittany.
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Odds and Ends, Other Items Of Interest About Robert

Old Codger

Published by Susan on 08/08/2003 (3562 reads)
Of garden truck he made his fare...

Of garden truck he made his fare,
     As his bright eyes bore witness;
Health was his habit and his care,
     His hobby human fitness.
He sang the praise of open sky,
     The gladth of Nature's giving;
And when at last he came to die
     It was of too long living.

He held aloof from hate and strife,
     Drank peace in dreamful doses;
He never voted in his life,
     Loved children, dogs and roses.
Let tyrants romp in gory glee,
     And revolutions roister,
He passed his days as peacefully
     As friar in a cloister.

So fellow sinners, should you choose
     Of doom to be a dodger,
At eighty be a bland recluse
     Like this serene old codger,
Who turned his back on fear and fret,
     And died nigh eighty-seven . . .
His name was--Robert Service: let
     Us hope he went to Heaven.

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