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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 07/24/2003 (3520 reads)
And so when he reached my bed...

And so when he reached my bed
  The General made a stand:
"My brave young fellow," he said,
     "I would shake your hand."

So I lifted my arm, the right,
  With never a hand at all;
Only a stump, a sight
     Fit to appal.

"Well, well. Now that's too bad!
  That's sorrowful luck," he said;
"But there! You give me, my lad,
     The left instead."

So from under the blanket's rim
  I raised and showed him the other,
A snag as ugly and grim
     As its ugly brother.

He looked at each jagged wrist;
  He looked, but he did not speak;
And then he bent down and kissed
     Me on either cheek.

You wonder now I don't mind
  I hadn't a hand to offer. . . .
They tell me (you know I'm blind)
     'Twas Grand-Père Joffre.

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