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O dear little cabin, I've loved you so long...

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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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Published by Webmaster on 07/30/2003 (3529 reads)
I am just an ancient cove


I am just an ancient cove
    With a little room,
And in it a little stove
    Fights December gloom;
For my blessings great and small,
    Such as bread and meat,
I thank God, but most of all
    I praise Him for Heat.

When my tiny stove is lit
    Loud may be the storm,
I can huddle over it
    Snug and safe and warm.
One needs roof and couch and cloths,
    One must drink and eat,
But I reckon each of those
    Just a form of heat.

Warmth is life and cold is death;
    Snow is my despair;
I must go before my breath
    Freezes in the air.
So my little stove I hug,
    Blankets round my feet,
Poor in purse but safe and snug,
    Blessing God for Heat.

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