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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

My Ancestors

Published by Susan on 08/09/2003 (3443 reads)
A barefoot boy I went to school...

A barefoot boy I went to school
        To save a cobbler's fee,
For though the porridge pot was full
        A frugal folk were we;
We baked our bannocks, spun our wool,
        And counted each bawbee.

We reft our living from the soil,
        And I was shieling bred;
My father's hands were warped with toil,
        And crooked with grace he said.
My mother made the kettle boil
        As spinning wheel she fed.

My granny smoked a pipe of clay,
        And yammered of her youth;
The hairs upon her chin were grey,
        She had a single tooth;
Her mutch was grimed, I grieve to say,
        For I would speak the truth.

You of your ancestry may boast,--
        Well, here I brag of mine;
For if there is a heaven host
        I hope they'll be in line:
My dad with collie at his heel
        In plaid of tartan stripe;
My mammie with her spinning wheel,
        My granny with her pipe.

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