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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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Normandy Peasant

Published by Webmaster on 07/29/2003 (4748 reads)
They've taken all my fields of corn

Normandy Peasant

They've taken all my fields of corn
    To make them strips of strife;
They've razed the house where I was born
    And lived in all my life.
Where once I jolted with content
    Along deep rutted lanes,
They've straddled runways of cement
    To ground their aeroplanes.

They've made me sell my bit of land
    And paid me with their gold.
Alas! they could not understand
    It was my heart I sold.
From my beloved soil bereft
    It was my soul I gave,
And now I know there's nothing left
    Between me and the grave.

They say that progress must go on
    Though darkly glooms the Pit.
Ah well, my life is nearly gone
    And I am glad of it.
They buy my land and millions spend
    To sponsor war's red woe,
And what will be the awful end
    Thank God! I'll never know.

For oh the world is in a mess,
    And day by day grows worse;
I've had my bid of happiness
    And now I know the Curse
Of monstrous might and speed that's blind,
    And see, as fails my breath,
The doom of martyred humankind,
    When Science mates with Death.

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