Page:Canadian poems of the great war.djvu/214

 Robert W. Service

And I tell them when it s over how I ll hike for Atha-

baska ;

And those seven greasy poilus they are crazy to go too. And I ll give the wife the pickle-tub I promised and

I ll ask her

The price of mink and marten, and the run of cariboo ; And I ll get my traps in order, and I ll start to work anew.

For I ve had my fill of fighting, and I ve seen a nation

scattered ; And an army swung to slaughter, and a river red with

gore; And a city all a-smoulder, and. . . as if it really

mattered, For the lake is yonder dreaming, and my cabin s on

the shore; And the dogs are leaping madly, and the wife is singing

gladly, And I ll rest in Athabaska, and I ll leave it never more.

��JEAN DESPREZ

OH ye whose hearts are resonant, and ring to War s romance,

Hear ye the story of a boy, a peasant boy of France; A lad uncouth and warped with toil, yet who, when trial

came, Could feel within his soul upleap and soar the sacred

flame; Could stand upright, and scorn and smite, as only heroes

may: Oh, harken ! Let me try to tell the tale of Jean Desprez.

With fire and sword the Teuton horde was ravaging the land,

�� �