large/2254/ballads_cheechako_0811_librivox_64kb_mp3/09_thewoodcutter_service_hp_64kb_3
large/2254/ballads_cheechako_0811_librivox_64kb_mp3/09_thewoodcutter_service_hp_64kb
English
2254
Last! Ah, yes, it's the finish. Have ever you heard a man cry? LAST AH YES IT'S THE FINISH HAVE EVER YOU HEARD A MAN CRY
and rush of strife; A music-hall aglow; A crowd, a city, life-- Dear God, I miss it so! Here, you have moped enough! Brace up and play the game! But say, it's awful tough-- Day after day the same (I've said that twice, I bet). Well, there's not much to say. I wish I had a pet, Or something I could play. Cheer up! don't get so glum And sick of everything; The worst is yet to come; God help you till the Spring. God shield you from the Fear; Teach you to laugh, not moan. Ha! ha! it sounds so queer-- Alone, alone, alone! The Wood-Cutter _The sky is like an envelope, One of those blue official things; And, sealing it, to mock our hope, The moon, a silver wafer, clings. What shall we find when death gives leave To read--our sentence or reprieve?_ I'm holding it down on God's scrap-pile, up on the fag-end of earth; O'er me a menace of mountains, a river that grits at my feet; Face to face with my soul-self, weighing my life at its worth; Wondering what I was made for, here in my last retreat.  THE WOODCUTTER BY ROBERT SERVICE READ FOR LIEBERVOXDAD ORG BY HAIDEY PRICE THE SKY IS LIKE AN ENVELOPE ONE OF THOSE BLUE OFFICIAL THINGS AND SEALING IT TO MOCK OUR HOPE THE MOON A SILVER WAFER CLINGS WHAT SHALL WE FIND WHEN DEATH GIVES LEAVE TO READ OUR SENTENCE OR REPRIEVE I'M HOLDING IT DOWN ON GOD'S SCRAP PILE UP ON THE FAGOND OF EARTH O'ER ME A MENACE OF MOUNTAINS A RIVER THAT GRITS AT MY FEET FACE TO FACE WITH MY SOUL SELF WEIGHING MY LIFE AT ITS WORTH WONDERING WHAT I WAS MADE FOR HERE IN MY LAST RETREAT
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