The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #26936 Message #3790702
Posted By: Megan L
17-May-16 - 01:35 AM
Thread Name: Resources: Robert W. Service
Subject: RE: Help: Robt. W. Service
thank you Joe for bringing the site to my attention I was brought up with dad reciting Robert Service poems The shooting of Dan Mgrew, the leather medal and his favourite The cremation of Sam Magee. I would spend hours immersed in the big hard back book with all his poems but when dad passed away the books disappeared.
I was therefore delighted to find my personal favourite
Bide-A-Wee
Published by Webmaster on 07/30/2003 (2949 reads)
You've heard, may be, of Maw McGee
Bide-A-Wee
You've heard, may be, of Maw McGee
Who from Old Reckie came;
A lorn and lonely widder she,
And sorry for the same;
Who put her scanty savings in
A tiny shop for tea,
In Lucky Strike, that bed of sin,
And called it Bide-a-Wee.
The which is Scotch for Rest-A-While,
But somehow no one did,
And poor Maw with a sickly smile
Her woe and worry hid.
Her hand-made scones and cookies were
Forever growing stale,
For sourdoughs vinously aver
Tea's splendid - for the trail.
Then one day Montreal Maree,
In gaily passing bye
Saw silver-haired old Maw McGee
Partaking of a cry.
So bold she breezed into the shop:
"I like your joint," says she:
"And every afternoon I'll stop
To have a cup of tea."
Right there she tuckered in with toast
And orange-pekoe brew;
Of shortbread that was Scotland's boast
She bought a pound or two.
The to the dance-hall dolls she spoke:
"I sink zere ess no doubt
Zat poor ol' leddy she go broke:
We gotta help her out."
And so next day 'twas joy to see
Them babies bargin' in,
And maw was busy as a bee
Amid the merry din.
And then the hooch-hounds lent their aid;
Said they: "It's jest like home."
Why, even spoonin' marmalade
Was Black Moran from Nome.
The Nugget bar was lonesome-like
From four to five each day,
And wondering was One-eyed Mike
What kept the boys away.
Says he: "Where are them sons o' guns?
I'll stroll the street to see."
When lo! he found them buying buns
In jam-packed Bide-a-Wee.
The boys looked sheepish, I'll allow,
As One-eyed Mike strolled in,
To see him kiss Maw on the brow
And greet her with a grin.
"Why, bless you, dear, give me a pot,
And make it strong," says he;
"Since Mother died I've quite forgot
The taste of home made tea."
So in the Camp of Lucky Strike
Maw sure has made the grade,
And patronized by One-eyed Mike
She plies a pretty trade.
To all the girls a mother's part
She plays, but oh how she
Is grateful for the golden heart
Of Montreal Maree!