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Local Lad

Robert Service

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.

Added: 29 Jun 2002 | Last Read: 20 Oct 2018 7:36 AM | Viewed: 3828 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/5244/ | Viewed on 20 October 2018.
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