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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, it's 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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Finnigan's FinishPublished by Susan on 2003/8/8 (622 reads)
They thought I'd be a champion...
They thought I'd be a champion; They boasted loud of me. A dozen victories I'd won, The Press was proud of me. I saw myself with glory crowned, And would, beyond a doubt, Till last night in the second round A Dago knocked me out. It must have been an accident; I cannot understand. For I was so damn confident I'd lick him with one hand. I bounded in the ring to cheers; I panted for the fray: Ten minutes more with hoots and jeers They bore me limp away. I will not have the nerve to face The sporting mob today; The doll I fell for--my disgrace Will feel and fade away. Last night upon the brink of fame No favour did I lack: Tomorrow from the sink of shame I'll beg my old job back.
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