Robert William Service (Роберт Уильям Сервис)

Prelude (In youth I gnawed life's bitter rind)

In youth I gnawed life's bitter rind
And shared the rugged lot
Of fellows rude and unrefined,
Frustrated and forgot;
And now alas! it is too late
My sorry ways to mend,
So sadly I accept my fate,
A Roughneck to the end.

Profanity is in my voice
And slag is in my rhyme,
For I have mucked with men who curse
And grovel in the grime;
My fingers were not formed, I fear,
To frame a pretty pen,
So please forgive me if I veer
From Virtue now and then.

For I would be the living voice,
Though raucous is its tone,
Of men who rarely may rejoice,
Yet barely ever moan:
The rovers of the raw-ribbed lands,
The lads of lowly worth,
The scallywags with scaley hands
Who weld the ends of earth.

1. The Rhyme of the Remittance Man
2. My Ancestors
3. The Lure of Little Voices
4. The Cremation of Sam Mcgee
5. Bessie's Boil

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1794

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