The Widow
Robert William Service
I don’t think men of eighty odd
Should let a surgeon operate;
Better to pray for peace with God,
And reconcile oneself to Fate:
At four-score years we really should
Be quite prepared to go for good.
That’s what I told my husband but
He had a hearty lust for life,
And so he let a surgeon cut
Into his innards with a knife.
The sawbones swore: “The man’s so fat
His kidneys take some getting at.”
And then (according to a nurse),
They heard him petulantly say:
“Adipose tissue is curse:
It’s hard to pack them tripes away.”
At last he did; sewed up the skin,
But left, some say, a swab within.
I do not doubt it could be so,
For Lester did not long survive.
But for mishap, I think with woe
My hubby might still be alive.
And while they praise the surgeon’s skill,
My home I’ve sold—to pay his bill.
Next 10 Poems
- Robert William Service : The Widower
- Robert William Service : The Wife
- Robert William Service : The Wildy Ones
- Robert William Service : The Wistful One
- Robert William Service : The Woman And The Angel
- Robert William Service : The Woman At The Gate
- Robert William Service : The Womb
- Robert William Service : The Wonderer
- Robert William Service : The Wood-cutter
- Robert William Service : The World's All Right
Previous 10 Poems
- Robert William Service : The Whistle Of Sandy Mcgraw
- Robert William Service : The Wee Shop
- Robert William Service : The Wedding Ring
- Robert William Service : The Wanderlust
- Robert William Service : The Walkers
- Robert William Service : The Volunteer
- Robert William Service : The Visionary
- Robert William Service : The Undying
- Robert William Service : The Under-dogs
- Robert William Service : The Twins Of Lucky Strike