The Quitter (1912)
When you're lost in the Wild, and you're scared as a child,
And Death looks you bang in the eye,
And you're sore as a boil, it's according to Hoyle
To cock your revolver and . . . die.
But the Code of a Man says: "Fight all you can,"
And self-dissolution is barred.
In hunger and woe, oh, it's easy to blow . . .
It's the hell-served-for-breakfast that's hard.
"You're sick of the game!" Well, now that's a shame.
You're young and you're brave and you're bright.
"You've had a raw deal!" I know--but don't squeal,
Buck up, do your damnedest, and fight.
It's the plugging away that will win you the day,
So don't be a piker, old pard!
Just draw on your grit, it's so easy to quit.
It's the keeping-your chin-up that's hard.
It's easy to cry that you're beaten--and die;
It's easy to crawfish and crawl;
But to fight and to fight when hope's out of sight--
Why that's the best game of them all!
And though you come out of each gruelling bout,
All broken and battered and scarred,
Just have one more try--it's dead easy to die,
It's the keeping-on-living that's hard.
- Robert Service
Good words to live by. Keep your revolver ready, keep on living, and freshly baked Scones in the morning with homemade blackberry jam. It's much preferred over "hell served for breakfast".
- Brigid and Barkley
click on photo to enlarge
15 comments:
Although I hadn't read that particular poem before, I recognized Service's unique style within two verses. He's a favorite.
Those look REALLY good; I need to remind Sam to make some again.
I hope you and Barkley are both doing as well as possible. We're still praying, here.
Warm, steamy, melts in your mouth. My God how I love your food blogging.
Ah, yes, good food. And, my own kitchen sounds pretty good, too!
How is Barkley?
Hugs,
Lois
Yeah, I think I'd pick the scones too...
"Hell served for breakfast" should have been the name of a diner in Evanston, Wyoming I once stopped at...
I hope Barkley got some scone, too?
And I hope you and he are well. Waiting sucks.
Still sending prayers and good thoughts to both of you.
And the blackberries are SO-O-O ripe round these parts right now.
A trip up to a beautifully thick berry patch - with a container this time - and there's enough to pick AND eat at the same time.
One for me, one for the bucket, one for me, one for me, one for me, one for the bucket.
Continue as necessary
Q
I think I had Hell served for breakfast out of a couple of Field kitchens back in the day.
Scones look great!
I'm rather partial to pulpy black raspberry jelly (without the seeds) on scones myself. The raspberries should be in full swing by next week up here.
Blackberries won't be ready for another month probably. But getting them away from the bears in the wild areas can be tricky. This state needs to issue more bear hunting permits.
I'd never run across that poem; particularly timely right now, so thanks a bunch!
Scones are sweet.....but my preference runs towards Huckleberry Muffins (Blueberry will do in a pinch).
Now, as the sun is starting to peep here, I am going to go pick raspberries.....I have a bumper crop due to all of the rain we have had this year.
Glad that Barkley is doing better!
Bob
III
@Bob: Two verses? Two lines, more like. Pretty sure Robert Service is the only poet my Dad ever read on his own.
@Matt: Yep.
WV: mirrenen. A Finn I knew in the Yoo Pee.
I've never heard of the poet before this but I love him now.
Scones are one of God's greatest joys, as is good poetry. My dad's battling pancreatic cancer right now, so I'm sharing the poem and the blog with him today, for encouragement and just plain fun.
Thanks to the blog hosts and all of you who are out there keeping your powder dry, and fighting!
Kathy L - I'm glad you liked the poem and I hope some of my writing and photos (well the plane photos this week are my friend Miss D's) make your Dads spirit a light lighter.
Best to you both.
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