A new Years Eve Poem
Sunday, January 02, 2005
Since the thoughts about an uncaring world, as referenced in the blog about the earthquake in Asia referenced, has been on my mind, (suchas it is) and how anyone who may be different for whatever reason, is somehow an outcast from the rest of the world, i found this poem by Robert William Service which seemed appropriate.
"Rouse up, old man, it's twelve o'clock. You can't sleep here, you know. Say! ain't you got no sentiment? Lift up your muddled head;Have a drink to the glad New Year, a drop before you go -- You darned old dirty hobo . . . My God! Here, boys! He's DEAD!"
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