Poem by Robert William Service

Local Lad

I never saw a face so bright
With brilliant blood and joy,
As was the grinning mug last night
Of Dick, our local boy,
When with a clumsy, lucky clout
He knocked the champion out.

A week ago he swung a pick
And sweated in a ditch.
Tonight he's togged up mighty slick,
And fancies himself rich.
With floozies, fine food, bubbly drink
He'll go to hell I think.

Unless they make another match;
And if they do I guess
The champion won't have a scratch,
But Dick will be a mess;
His map will be a muck of gore
As he sprawls on the floor.

Then he'll go back his pick to swing,
And sweat deep in the mud...
Yet still I see him in the ring,
So gay with glee and blood,
Dancing a jig and holding high
His gloves to climb the sky.

1. The Little Old Log Cabin
2. The Sunshine Seeks My Little Room
3. Bessie's Boil
4. Wrestling Match
5. The Low-Down White

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