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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 Trail of Trouble

Published by Webmaster on 07/30/2003 (3301 reads)
Because my life was drab and stale

The Trail of Trouble

Because my life was drab and stale
    In stifled city air
With careless heart I took the trail
    That led to anywhere.
The shy was fell, the wind a knell,
    The road was rough with rubble,
An yet because my fate it was
    I took the Trail of Trouble.

In safety and in smugness lay
  The boulevards of my birth,
Yet fecklessly I went my way
    Of darkness  and if dearth;
And though to meet my foolish feet
    Came danger at the double,
Because I thought it was my lot,
    I took the Trail of Trouble.

For some of us are born like that
    And never can we change.
We flout the fairness of the flat
    And rove the rocky range.
That goes for me - though blurred I see,
    And grey is my chin stubble,
A reckless old son of a gun,
    With saddle-pack at rise of sun,
Here's fare-you-well to everyone . . .
    Hooray! the Trail of Trouble. 

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