All Poems

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Carry On

© Robert William Service

It's easy to fight when everything's right,
And you're mad with the thrill and the glory;
It's easy to cheer when victory's near,
And wallow in fields that are gory.

Abandoned Dog

© Robert William Service

I found it prone upon the way;
Of life was little token.
As limply in the dust it lay
I thought its heart was broken:
Then one dim eye it opened and
It sought to like my hand.

Obesity

© Robert William Service

With belly like a poisoned pup
Said I: 'I must give bacon up:
And also, I profanely fear,
I must abandon bread and beer

Success

© Robert William Service

You ask me what I call Success -
It is, I wonder, Happiness?It is not wealth, it is not fame,
Nor rank, nor power nor honoured name.
It is not triumph in the Arts -

My Boss

© Robert William Service

My Boss keeps sporty girls, they say;
His belly's big with cheer.
He squanders in a single day
What I make in a year.

Hate

© Robert William Service

I had a bitter enemy,
His heart to hate he gave,
And when I died he swore that he
Would dance upon my grave;

Home And Love

© Robert William Service

Just Home and Love! the words are small
Four little letters unto each;
And yet you will not find in all
The wide and gracious range of speech

Little Brother

© Robert William Service

Wars have been and wars will be
Till the human race is run;
Battles red by land and sea,
Never peace beneath the sun.

My Husbands

© Robert William Service

My first I wed when just sixteen
And he was sixty-five.
He treated me like any queen
The years he was alive.

Wrestling Match

© Robert William Service

What guts he had, the Dago lad
Who fought that Frenchman grim with guile;
For nigh an hour they milled like mad,
And mauled the mat in rare old style.

My Future

© Robert William Service

"Let's make him a sailor," said Father,
"And he will adventure the sea."
"A soldier," said Mother, "is rather
What I would prefer him to be."

My Brothers

© Robert William Service

My brother Jim sells stuff to eat
Like trotters, tripe and sausage meat.
I dare not by his window stop,
Lest he should offer me a chop;
For though a starving bard I be,
To hell, say I, with charity!

Growing Old

© Robert William Service

Somehow the skies don't seem so blue
As they used to be;
Blossoms have a fainter hue,
Grass less green I see.

Grandad

© Robert William Service

Heaven's mighty sweet, I guess;
Ain't no rush to git there:
Been a sinner, more or less;
Maybe wouldn't fit there.
Wicked still, bound to confess;
Might jest pine a bit there.

Mud

Mud is Beauty in the making,
Mud is melody awaking;
Laughter, leafy whisperings,
Butterflies with rainbow wings;

Canine Conversation

If dogs could speak, O Mademoiselle,
What funny stories they could tell!
For instance, take your little "peke,"
How awkward if the dear could speak!

The Mother

Your children grow from you apart,
Afar and still afar;
And yet it should rejoice your heart
To see how glad they are;

Courage

Not for myself I care
As forth I fare;
But for those left behind
Wae is my mind
Knowing how they will miss
My careless kiss.

Your Poem

My poem may be yours indeed
In melody and tone,
If in its rhythm you can read
A music of your own;

Birthday

(16th January 1949)I thank whatever gods may be
For all the happiness that's mine;
That I am festive, fit and free
To savour women, wit and wine;