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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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Lottery Ticket

Published by Susan on 08/08/2003 (4694 reads)
'A ticket for the lottery...

'A ticket for the lottery
I've purchased every week,' said she
           'For years a score
Though desperately poor am I,
Oh how I've scrimped and scraped to buy
           One chance more.

Each week I think I'll gain the prize,
And end my sorrows and my sighs,
           For I'll be rich;
Then nevermore I'll eat bread dry,
With icy hands to cry and cry
           And stitch and stitch.'

'Tis true she won the premier prize;
It was of formidable size,
           Ten million francs.
I know, because the man who sold
It to her splenically told
           He got no thanks.

The lucky one was never found,
For she was snugly underground,
           And minus breath;
And with that ticket tucked away,
In some old stocking, so they say,
           She starved to death.

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