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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.
All Entries 1997 - 2002
All Entries 2002
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Published by Webmaster on 07/30/2003 (6729 reads)
Dirt is just matter out or place,


Dirt is just matter out or place,
So scientists aver;
But when I see a miner's face
I wonder if they err.
For grit and grime and grease may be
In God's constructive plan,
A symbol of nobility,
The measure of a man.

There's nought so clean as honest dirt,
So of its worth I sing;
I value more an oily shirt
Than garment of a king.
There's nought so proud as honest sweat,
And though its stink we cuss,
We kid-glove chaps are in the debt
Of those who sweat for us.

It's dirt and sweat that makes us folks
Proud as we are today;
We owe our wealth to weary blokes
Befouled by soot and clay.
And where you see a belly fat
A dozen more are lean. . . .
By God! I'd sooner doff my hat
To washer-wife than queen.

So here's a song to dirt and sweat,
A grace to grit and grime;
A hail to workers who beet
The wonders of our time.
And as they gaze, through gutter-girt,
To palaces enskied,
Let them believe, by sweat and dirt,
They, too, are glorified

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