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Grey sea, grey sea, and grey, so grey...

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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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The Wild One

Published by Webmaster on 07/30/2003 (3930 reads)
"Son there's nothing I can say,

The Wild One

"Son there's nothing I can say,
        Nothing I can do.
You will go your foolish way,
        'Tis the last of you:
Why for strangeness and the storm
        Leave hearth so warm?"

"Mother, what you say is true:
        Sweet's the heather heath,
And the roads of wrath and rue
        Lead to lonesome death.
But for all you bitter blame
        I'll go all the same."

"Son, three cows are in the byre,
        Praties in the sod;
There's the peat to feed the fire -
        Why be tempting God?
Leave the shielding for the wild . . .
         I'm a-feared my child."

"Mother, never you will hear
        Word from me of woe;
I will send you lines of cheer
         From the where I go;
For a mutch with ribbons blue
        Send you siller too."

"But if letters never come,
        I'll have quit to be;
And in hushness of the home
        Wail and weep for me . . .
Boy who dared the fairy foam,
        Crossed the moon-mad sea."

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