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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 Susan on 08/08/2003 (2963 reads)
With belly like a poisoned pup...

With belly like a poisoned pup
    Said I: 'I must give bacon up:
And also, I profanely fear,
    I must abandon bread and beer
That make for portliness they say;
    Yet of them copiously today
I ate with an increasingly sense
         Of grievous corpulence.

I like a lot of things I like.
    Too bad that I must go on strike
Against pork sausages and mash,
    Spaghetti and fried corn-beef hash.
I deem he is a lucky soul
    Who has no need of girth control;
For in the old of age: '
Il faut
         Souffrir pour etre bean.

Yet let me not be unconsoled:
    So many greybeards I behold,
Distinguished in affairs of state,
    In culture counted with the Great,
Have tummies with a shameless bulge,
    And so I think I'll still indulge
In eats I like without a qualm,
         And damn my diaphragm!'

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