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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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The Battle

Published by Susan on 08/08/2003 (2761 reads)
Dames should be doomed to dungeons...

Dames should be doomed to dungeons
Who masticate raw onions.

She was the cuddly kind of Miss
        A man can love to death;
But when I sought to steal a kiss
        I wilted from a breath
With onion odour so intense
        I lost my loving sense.

Yet she was ever in my thought
        Like some exotic flower,
And so a garlic bulb I bought
        And chewed it by the hour;
Then when we met I thrilled to see
        'Twas she who shrank from me.

So breath to breath we battled there,
        To dominate each other;
And though her onions odious were,
        My garlic was a smother;
Till loth I said: 'If we would kiss
        Let's call an armistice.

'Now we have proved that we are true
        To our opinions,
My garlic I'll give up if you
        Give up your onions.'
And so next day with honey sips
        How sweet her lips!

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