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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
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Tom

Published by Susan on 08/02/2003 (2002 reads)
That Tom was poor was sure a pity...

That Tom was poor was sure a pity,
     Such guts for learning had the lad;
He took to Greek like babe to titty,
     And he was mathematic mad.
I loved to prime him up with knowledge,
     A brighter lad I never knew;
I dreamed that he would go to college
     And there be honoured too.

But no! His Dad said, "Son, I need you
     To keep the kettle on the boil;
No longer can I clothe and feed you,
     Buy study books and midnight oil.
I carry on as best I'm able,
     A humble tailor, as you know;
And you must squat cross-legged a table
     And learn to snip and sew."

And that is what poor Tom is doing.
     He bravely makes the best of it;
But as he "fits" you he is knowing 
     That he himself is a misfit;
And thinks as he fulfils his calling,
     With patient heart yet deep distaste,
Like clippings from his shears down-falling,
                --He, too, is Waste.


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