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Poem by Robert William Service
Elisabeth imagines I've A yellow streak She deems I have no dash and drive, Jest dogoned weak. 'A man should be a man,' says Liz 'Trade blow for blow.' Poor kid! What my position is She jest don't know. She jest don't know my old man killed, Yea, slew and slew. As steamy blood he sweetly spilled, So could I too. And though no wrath of heart I show When I see red, I fear no S. O. B. but oh Myself I dread. Though fellers reckon me a dope And trigger-shy, 'Tain't nice to dangle on a rope, And like Pa die. So as I belly to the bar Meek is my breath... No guts! --Don't needle me too far, Elizabeth!
Robert William Service
Robert William Service's other poems:
English Poetry. E-mail firstname.lastname@example.org