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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 Buyers

Published by Susan on 08/08/2003 (3644 reads)
Father drank himself to death...

Father drank himself to death,--
        Quite enjoyed it.
Urged to draw a sober breath
        He'd avoid it.
'Save your sympathy,' said Dad;
        'Never sought it.
Hob-nail liver, gay and glad,
        Sure,--I bought it.'

Uncle made a heap of dough,
        Ponies playing.
'Easy come and easy go,'
        Was his saying.
Though he died in poverty
        Fit he thought it,
Grinning with philosophy:
        'Guess I bought it.'

Auntie took the way of sin,
        Seeking pleasure;
Lovers came, her heart to win,
        Bringing treasure.
Sickness smote,--with lips that bled
        Brave she fought it;
Smiling on her dying bed:
        'Dears, I bought it.'

My decades of life are run,
        Eight precisely;
Yet I've lost a lot of fun
        Living wisely.
Too much piety don't pay,
        Time has taught it;
Hadn't guts to go astray;
Life's a bloody bore today,--
        Well, I've bought it.

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