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Robert William Service (Роберт Уильям Сервис)


The Widow


I don't think men of eighty odd
Should let a surgeon operate;
Better to pray for peace with God,
And reconcile oneself to Fate:
At four-score years we really should
Be quite prepared to go for good.

That's what I told my husband but
He had a hearty lust for life,
And so he let a surgeon cut
Into his innards with a knife.
The sawbones swore: "The man's so fat
His kidneys take some getting at."

And then (according to a nurse),
They heard him petulantly say:
"Adipose tissue is curse:
It's hard to pack them tripes away."
At last he did; sewed up the skin,
But left, some say, a swab within.

I do not doubt it could be so,
For Lester did not long survive.
But for mishap, I think with woe
My hubby might still be alive.
And while they praise the surgeon's skill,
My home I've sold--to pay his bill.



Robert William Service's other poems:
  1. The Idealist
  2. Euthansia
  3. Murderers
  4. The Ballad of the Leather Medal
  5. Weary


Poems of other poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):

  • Robert Southey (Роберт Саути) The Widow ("Cold was the night wind, drifting fast the snows fell")
  • Thomas Hardy (Томас Харди) The Widow ("By Mellstock Lodge and Avenue")

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