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Lord, I'm grey, my face is run, But by old Harry, I've had my fun

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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


Published by Susan on 08/09/2003 (3135 reads)
Because I was a wonton wild...

Because I was a wonton wild
    And welcomed many a lover,
Who is the father of my child
    I wish I could discover.
For though I know it is not right
    In tender arms to tarry,
A barmaid has to be polite
    To Tom and Dick and Harry.

My truest love was Poacher Jim:
    I wish my babe was his'n.
Yet I can't father it on him
    Because he was in prison.
As uniforms I like, I had
    A soldier and a sailor;
Then there was Pete the painter lad,
    And Timothy the tailor.

Though virtue hurt you vice ain't nice;
    They say to err is human;
Alas! one pays a bitter price,
    It's hell to be a woman.
Oh dear! Why was I born a lass
    Who hated to say: No, sir.
I'd better in my sorry pass
    Blame Mister Simms, the grocer.

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