The Yukoner

Robert William Service

He burned a hole in frozen muck,
He pierced the icy mould,
And there in six-foot dirt he struck
A sack or so of gold.

He burned holes in the Decalogue,
And then it cam about,
For Fortune’s just a lousy rogue,
His “pocket” petered out.

And lo! ’twas but a year all told,
When there in a shadow grim,
In six feet deep of icy mould
They burned a hole for him.

Next 10 Poems

• Robert William Service : Three Wives
• Robert William Service : Tick-tock
• Robert William Service : Tim
• Robert William Service : Tipperary Days
• Robert William Service : Titine
• Robert William Service : To A Stuffed Shirt
• Robert William Service : To A Tycoon
• Robert William Service : To Frank Dodd
• Robert William Service : To Sunnydale
• Robert William Service : To The Man Of The High North

Previous 10 Poems

• Robert William Service : The Younger Son
• Robert William Service : The World's All Right
• Robert William Service : The Wood-cutter
• Robert William Service : The Wonderer
• Robert William Service : The Womb
• Robert William Service : The Woman At The Gate
• Robert William Service : The Woman And The Angel
• Robert William Service : The Wistful One
• Robert William Service : The Wildy Ones
• Robert William Service : The Wife