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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 (3336 reads)
His portrait hung upon the wall...

His portrait hung upon the wall.
    Oh how at us he used to stare.
Each Sunday when I made my call! --
    And when one day it wasn't there,
Quite quick I seemed to understand
    The light was green to hold her hand.

Her eyes were amorously lit;
    I knew she wouldn't mind at all.
Yet what I did was sit and sit
    Seeing that blankness on the wall . . .
Horatio had a gentle face,--
    How would my mug look in his place?

That oblong of wall-paper wan!
    And while she prattled prettily
I sensed the red light going on,
    So I refused a cup of tea,
And took my gold-topped cane and hat--
    My going seemed to leave her flat.

Horatio was a decent guy,
    And when she ravished from her heart
A damsite better man than I,
    She seemed to me,--well, just a tart:
Her lack of tact I can't explain.
    His picture,--is it hung again?

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