Robert Service

[Machrihanish]

Aye, it always used to be a good night with a good ceilidh afterwards

[History]

The Three Bares
by: Robert W. Service

Ma tried to wash her garden slacks but couldn't get 'em clean
And so she thought she'd soak 'em in a bucket o' benzine.
It worked all right. She wrung 'em out then wondered what she'd do
With all that bucket load of high explosive residue.

She knew that it was dangerous to scatter it around,
For Grandpa liked to throw his lighted matches on the ground.
Somehow she didn't dare to pour it down the kitchen sink,
And what the heck to do with it, poor Ma jest couldn't think.

Then Nature seemed to give the clue, as down the garden lot
She spied the edifice that graced a solitary spot,
Their Palace of Necessity, the family joy and pride,
Enshrined in morning-glory vine, with graded seats inside;

Jest like that cabin Goldylocks found occupied by three,
But in this case B-E-A-R was spelt B-A-R-E----
A tiny seat for Baby Bare, a medium for Ma,
A full-sized section sacred to the Bare of Grandpapa.

Well, Ma was mighty glad to get that worry off her mind,
And hefting up the bucket so combustibly inclined,
She hurried down the garden to that refuge so discreet,
And dumped the liquid menace safely through the centre seat.

Next morning old Grandpa arose; he made a hearty meal,
And sniffed the air and said: `By Gosh! how full of beans I feel.
Darned if I ain't as fresh as paint; my joy will be complete
With jest a quiet session on the usual morning seat;

To smoke me pipe an' meditate, an' maybe write a pome,
For that's the time when bits o' rhyme gits jiggin' in me dome.'
He sat down on that special seat slicked shiny by his age,
And looking like Walt Whitman, jest a silver-whiskered sage,

He filled his corn-cob to the brim and tapped it snugly down,
And chuckled: `Of a perfect day I reckon this the crown.'
He lit the weed, it soothed his need, it was so soft and sweet:
And then he dropped the lighted match clean through the middle seat.

His little grand-child Rosyleen cried from the kichen door:
Oh, Ma, come quick; there's sompin wrong; I heared a dreffel roar;
Oh, Ma, I see a sheet of flame; it's rising high and higher...
Oh, Mummy dear, I sadly fear our comfort-cot's caught fire.'

Poor Ma was thrilled with horror at them words o' Rosyleen.
She thought of Grandpa's matches and that bucket of benzine;
So down the garden geared on high, she ran with all her power,
For regular was Grandpa, and she knew it was his hour.

Then graspin' gaspin' Rosyleen she peered into the fire,
A roarin' soarin' furnace now, perchance old Grandpa's pyre....
But as them twain expressed their pain they heard a hearty cheer----
Behold the old rapscallion squattinn' in the duck pond near,

His silver whiskers singed away, a gosh-almighty wreck,
W i' half a yard o' toilet seat entwined about his neck....
He cried: `Say, folks, oh, did ye hear the big blow-out I made?
But now I best be crawlin' out o' this dog-gasted wet....
For what I aim to figger out is----WHAT THE HECK I ET?

History

[Machrihanish]

not heard that one...great

[EMDEE]

I've always been aware of Robert Service as a poet, without knowing much about him, but this thread might spur me into investigating a bit more into his life and works.

[Machrihanish]

Same here Emdee, mainly due to my fathers interest in him and Kipling

[hugh]

I believe he was a stretcher-bearer or some such during the first world war. I remember reading something like that on the sleeve notes of
"War, War, War", an album of some of his war poetry (strangely enough) set to music by Country Joe McDonald. It was released in '71 or '72,
I had it on vynil, not sure if it's available in any other format.

[Machrihanish]

I believe he was a stretcher-bearer or some such during the first world war. I remember reading something like that on the sleeve notes of
"War, War, War", an album of some of his war poetry (strangely enough) set to music by Country Joe McDonald. It was released in '71 or '72,
I had it on vynil, not sure if it's available in any other format.

That sounds interesting Hugh, will have to try track it down I think
Found this site for a start: http://www.countryjoe.com/warsongs.htm#www
Cheers

[hugh]

"Jean despres"....I remember thinking that was the outstanding track. Not sure if that's the right spelling, though.

[Machrihanish]

"Jean despres"....I remember thinking that was the outstanding track. Not sure if that's the right spelling, though.

Aye that's right enough according to the track listing Hugh:
COUNTRY JOE MCDONALD, WAR-WAR-WAR
Composed by Country Joe McDonald from the poems of Robert W. Service. music copyright by Joe McDonald Music Corp., BMI 1971. Produced by Country Joe McDonald, recorded at Vanguard23rd Street Studio, New York, engineered by Jeff Zaraya, cover produced by Robin Menken, cover by Thut-Wainwright, San Francisco, California.Note: all songs about WWI except The March Of The Dead which is about The Boer War.

LP Vanguard VSD-79315
Side 1
Part One
1 Forward 4:39
2 The Call 2:35
3 Young Fellow, My Lad 3:47
4 The Man From Aphabaska sic (Athabasca)

Side 2
Part Two
1 The Munition Maker 4:22
2 The Twins 1:53
3 Jean Despres 9:48

Part Three
4 War Widow 2:02
5 The March Of The Dead 6:27

[hugh]

I have heard, but it does sound like an urban myth, that the famous Desperate Dan was based on a composite of the characters portrayed in
his Yukon "gold rush" poetry.

That bit in "Dan McGrew", the bit that starts "Were you ever alone...." that sounds brilliant on Youtube, doesn't it? Oh, and this has just come
back to me....there was a television documentary on him a few years ago. May have been part of the "Timewatch" series, not absolutely sure
but there definitely was a documentary. Even if it was primarily on the gold rush, it leaned heavily on his experiences and his poetry.

[Machrihanish]

I heard the same story about desperate dan, you never know!
That YouTube clip is great, a good storyteller makes all the difference to this kind of work. Same with Burns I reckon.

[History]

Today I inadvertently saw a clip of a US soldier in Iraqi throw a small scared pup of a cliff to the amusement of his brave colleagues and I remembered this one from Service. It's in one of the books I have.

Abandoned Dog

Robert Service

They dumped it on the lonely road,
Then like a streak they sped;
And as along the way I strode
I thought that it was dead:
And then I saw that yelping pup
Rise, race to catch them up.

You know how silly wee dogs are.
It thought they were in fun.
Trying to overtake their car
I saw it run and run:
But as they faster, faster went,
It stumbled, sore and spent.

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 lick my hand.

Of course I took it gently up
And brought it to my wife
Who loves all dogs, and now that pup
Shares in our happy life:
Yet how I curse the bastards who
Its their good luck I never knew!

History