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The little pink house is high on the hill And my heart is not what it used to be

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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 Prisoner

Published by Susan on 08/09/2003 (3112 reads)
Upspoke the culprit at the bar...

Upspoke the culprit at the bar,
       Conducting his own case:
'Your Lordship, I have gone to far,
       But grant me of your grace.
As I was passing by a shop
       I saw my arm go out,
And though I begged of it to stop,
       It stole beyond a doubt.

'But why should my whole body be
       Condemned to dungeon grim,
For what in fact was only the
       Transgression of a limb?
So here before the Court I stand,
       And beg in Justice' name:
Please penalise my arm and hand,
       But not my frame.'

Outspoke the Judge with voice of ice,
       Although a smile he hid:
'Quite right! You should not pay the price
       For what one member did.
Your reasoning I must admit;
       Your arm should gaol expect . . .
Three months! And if you follow it
       The Court does not object.'

The culprit smiled with sudden charm,
       Then to the Court's dismay,
Quickly removed a wooden arm
               And went away.

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