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Alas! I fear that every day

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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 Wee People

Published by Webmaster on 07/30/2003 (3402 reads)
Though I am but a lisper

The Wee People

Though I am but a lisper
    In realms of Poetry,
The Fairy Folk they whisper
    Their fancies unto me.
I cannot write a poem,
    As anyone may guess,
Yet Fairy Folk bestow 'em
    On me with eagerness.

I'm just  an old reporter;
    I can't compose a lay.
I do not try - it's shorter
    To let the Pixies say.
For when in bed I'm lying
    Without a single thought,
The little folk come flying,
    And murmur - oh a lot!

For this rhyme - if you've read it,
    (Nay, do not think I joke)
Don't give me any credit,
    But thank the Fairy Folk.
For I'm the saddest duffer
    Of all earth's singing sons . . .
So reader, should you suffer,
    Confound the Impish Ones.

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