Old Bob

Robert William Service

I guess folks think I’m mighty dumb
         Since Jack and Jim and Joe
Have hit the trail to Kingdom Come
         And left me here below:
Since Death, the bastard, bowled them out,
         And left me faced with—Doubt.

My pals have all passed out on me
         And I am by my lone;
Old Bill was last, and now I see
         His name cut on a stone;
A marble slab, but not as fine
         As I have picked for mine.

I nurse and curse rheumatic pain
         As on the porch I sit;
With nothing special in my brain
         I rock and smoke and spit:
When one is nearing to the end
         One sorely needs a friend.

My Pals have gone,—in God’s good earth
         I guess they’re packed up snug,
And since I have no guts for mirth
             I zipper to my mug:
The question that I ponder on
             Is—where the heck they’ve gone?

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