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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508173" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Sourdough Story</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hark to the Sourdough story, told at sixty below,<br>When the pipes are lit and we smoke and spit<br>Into the campfire glow.<br>Rugged are we and hoary, and statin' a general rule,<br>A genooine Sourdough story<br>Ain't no yarn for the Sunday School.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A Sourdough came to stake his claim in Heav'n one morning early.<br>Saint Peter cried: &quot;Who waits outside them gates so bright and pearly?&quot;<br>&quot;I'm recent dead,&quot; the Sourdough said, &quot;and crave to visit Hades,<br>Where haply pine some pals o' mine, includin' certain ladies.&quot;<br>Said Peter: &quot;Go, you old Sourdough, from life so crooly riven;<br>And if ye fail to find their trail, we'll have a snoop round Heaven.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He waved, and lo! that old Sourdough dropped down to Hell's red spaces;<br>But though 'twas hot he couldn't spot them old familiar faces.<br>The bedrock burned, and so he turned, and climbed with footsteps fleeter,<br>The stairway straight to Heaven's gate, and there, of course, was Peter.<br>&quot;I cannot see my mates,&quot; sez he, &quot;among those damned forever.<br>I have a hunch some of the bunch in Heaven I'll discover.&quot;<br>Said Peter: &quot;True; and this I'll do (since Sourdoughs are my failing)<br>You see them guys in Paradise, lined up against the railing -<br>As bald as coots, in birthday suits, with beards below the middle . . .<br>Well, I'll allow you in right now, if you can solve a riddle:<br>Among that gang of stiffs who hang and dodder round the portals,<br>Is one whose name is know to Fame - it's Adam, first of mortals.<br>For quiet's sake he makes a break from Eve, which is his Madame. . . .<br>Well, there's the gate - To crash it straight, just spy the guy that's Adam.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The old Sourdough went down the row of greybeards ruminatin'<br>With optics dim they peered at him, and pressed agin the gratin'.<br>In every face he sought some trace of our ancestral father;<br>But though he stared, he soon despaired the faintest clue to gather.<br>Then suddenly he whooped with glee: &quot;Ha! Ha! an inspiration.&quot;<br>And to and fro along the row he ran with animation.<br>To Peter, bold he cried: &quot;Behold, all told there are eleven.<br>Suppose I fix on Number Six - say Boy! How's that for Heaven?&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;By gosh! you win,&quot; said Pete. &quot;Step in. But tell me how you chose him.<br>They're like as pins; all might be twins. There's nothing to disclose him.&quot;<br>The Sourdough said: &quot;'Twas hard; my head was seething with commotion.<br>I felt a dunce; then all at once I had a gorgeous notion.<br>I stooped and peered beneath each beard that drooped like fleece of mutton.<br>My search was crowned. . . . That bird I found - ain't got no belly button.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+William+Service">Robert William Service</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508173" data-title="A Sourdough Story de Robert William Service" data-description="Hark to the Sourdough story, told at sixty below,
When the pipes are lit and we smoke and spit
Into the campfire glow.
Rugged are we and hoary, and statin' a general rule,
A genooine Sourdough story
Ain't no yarn for the Sunday School.

A Sourdoug..."></div>
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