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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
Odds and Ends, Other Items Of Interest About Robert

The Widow

Published by Susan on 07/30/2003 (3514 reads)
I don't think men of eighty odd...

I don't think men of eighty odd
      Should let a surgeon operate;
Better to pray for peace with God,
      And reconcile oneself to Fate:
At four-score years we really should
      Be quite prepared to go for good.

That's what I told my husband but
      He had a hearty lust for life,
And so he let a surgeon cut
      Into his innards with a knife.
The sawbones swore: "The man's so fat
      His kidneys take some getting at."

And then (according to a nurse),
      They heard him petulantly say:
"Adipose tissue is curse:
      It's hard to pack them tripes away."
At last he did; sewed up the skin,
      But left, some say, a swab within.

I do not doubt it could be so,
      For Lester did not long survive.
But for mishap, I think with woe
      My hubby might still be alive.
And while they praise the surgeon's skill,
      My home I've sold--to pay his bill.

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