Robert William Service

(16 January 1874 - 11 September 1958 / Preston)

Robert William Service Poems

721. The Call Of The Wild 1/13/2003
722. Hobo 1/13/2003
723. Barcelona 1/13/2003
724. Anti-Profanity 1/13/2003
725. Conqueror 1/13/2003
726. Death And Life 1/13/2003
727. Bird Watcher 1/13/2003
728. Humility 1/13/2003
729. Allouette 1/13/2003
730. The Quitter 1/13/2003
731. Sentimental Shark 1/13/2003
732. Heart O' The North 1/13/2003
733. Clancy Of The Mounted Police 1/13/2003
734. Bank Robber 1/13/2003
735. Boon Soul 1/13/2003
736. Fallen Leaves 1/13/2003
737. Grin 1/13/2003
738. A Year Ago 1/13/2003
739. Compensation Pete 1/13/2003
740. Dolls 1/13/2003
741. A Verseman's Apology 1/13/2003
742. Bill's Prayer 1/13/2003
743. Freedom's Fool 1/13/2003
744. Hot Digitty Dog 1/13/2003
745. If You Had A Friend 1/13/2003
746. The Wedding Ring 1/13/2003
747. Artist 1/13/2003
748. Highland Hospitality 1/13/2003
749. Birds Of A Feather 1/13/2003
750. The Call 1/13/2003
751. Alias Bill 1/13/2003
752. Accordion 1/13/2003
753. Grandad 1/13/2003
754. Epitaph 1/13/2003
755. Each Day A Life 1/13/2003
756. Ant Hill 1/13/2003
757. I Will Not Fight 1/13/2003
758. The Wanderlust 1/13/2003
759. Wrestling Match 1/13/2003
760. Bingo 1/13/2003
Best Poem of Robert William Service

The Cremation Of Sam Mcgee

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in ...

Read the full of The Cremation Of Sam Mcgee

The Enigma

The Sergeant of a Highland Reg-
-Iment was drilling of his men;
With temper notably on edge
He blest them every now and then.
A sweet old lady standing by,
Was looking on with fascination,
And then she dared this question shy,
That pertubates the Celtic nation.

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