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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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My Not-So-Little Mary

Published by Webmaster on 07/30/2003 (3580 reads)
I've written stanzas in my time,

My Not-So-Little Mary

I've written stanzas in my time,
    And some were rummy;
So now I want to make a rhyme
    About my tummy;
This organ I am viewing now
    With some perplexity,
Disliking with a furrowed brow
    Its smug convexity.

But though its bold exterior
    My vanity belittles,
I sing of its interior
    Wherein I launch my vittles;
That cavity mysterious
    That handles all my eatings,
Benign of deleterious
    With gastronomic greetings.

I love my grub; I hate to sit
    And feel my innards hollow;
Yet wonder what becomes of it
    With every bite I swallow.
It's true I might read up its fate,
    But science I find boring,
And so I let it go its gait,
    Its functioning ignoring.

I love my heart; its faithful beat
    Obtains my approbation;
But when delicious food I eat
    I feel a veneration
For that proud part of me that makes
    My waist a hummock. . . .
Yea, spite gas and   belly aches
    God bless my stomach!

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