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Till midnight her needle she plied To finish her pretty pink dress

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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 Contrast

Published by Susan on 08/09/2003 (4271 reads)
Fat lady, in your four-wheeled chair...

Fat lady, in your four-wheeled chair,
        Dolled up to beat the band,
At me you arrogantly stare
       With gold lorgnette in hand.
Oh how you differ from the dame
        So shabby, gaunt and grey,
With legs rheumatically lame,
        Who steers you on your way.

Nay, jewelled lady, look not back
        Lest you should be disturbed
To see the skinny hag in black
        Who boosts you up the curb.
Of course I know you get her cheap,
        Since she's a lady too,
And bite to eat and bed to sleep
        Maybe are all her due.

Alas for those who give us aid
        Yet need more help than we!
And though she thinks the wages paid
        Are almost charity,
I'd love to see that lady fat
        Lug round that hefty chair,
While with lorgnette and feathered hat
        Her handmaid lounges there.

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