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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508439" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Lucille</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of course you've heard of the Nancy Lee, and how she sailed away<br>On her famous quest of the Arctic flea, to the wilds of Hudson's Bay?<br>For it was a foreign Prince's whim to collect this tiny cuss,<br>And a golden quid was no more to him than a copper to coves like us.<br>So we sailed away and our hearts were gay as we gazed on the gorgeous scene;<br>And we laughed with glee as we caught the flea of the wolf and the wolverine;<br>Yea, our hearts were light as the parasite of the ermine rat we slew,<br>And the great musk ox, and the silver fox, and the moose and the caribou.<br>And we laughed with zest as the insect pest of the marmot crowned our zeal,<br>And the wary mink and the wily "link", and the walrus and the seal.<br>And with eyes aglow on the scornful snow we danced a rigadoon,<br>Round the lonesome lair of the Arctic hare, by the light of the silver moon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But the time was nigh to homeward hie, when, imagine our despair!<br>For the best of the lot we hadn't got -- the flea of the polar bear.<br>Oh, his face was long and his breath was strong, as the Skipper he says to me:<br>"I wants you to linger 'ere, my lad, by the shores of the Hartic Sea;<br>I wants you to 'unt the polar bear the perishin' winter through,<br>And if flea ye find of its breed and kind, there's a 'undred quid for you."<br>But I shook my head: "No, Cap," I said; "it's yourself I'd like to please,<br>But I tells ye flat I wouldn't do that if ye went on yer bended knees."<br>Then the Captain spat in the seething brine, and he says: "Good luck to you,<br>If it can't be did for a 'undred quid, supposin' we call it two?"<br>So that was why they said good-by, and they sailed and left me there --<br>Alone, alone in the Arctic Zone to hunt for the polar bear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, the days were slow and packed with woe, till I thought they would never end;<br>And I used to sit when the fire was lit, with my pipe for my only friend.<br>And I tried to sing some rollicky thing, but my song broke off in a prayer,<br>And I'd drowse and dream by the driftwood gleam; I'd dream of a polar bear;<br>I'd dream of a cloudlike polar bear that blotted the stars on high,<br>With ravenous jaws and flenzing claws, and the flames of hell in his eye.<br>And I'd trap around on the frozen ground, as a proper hunter ought,<br>And beasts I'd find of every kind, but never the one I sought.<br>Never a track in the white ice-pack that humped and heaved and flawed,<br>Till I came to think: "Why, strike me pink! if the creature ain't a fraud."<br>And then one night in the waning light, as I hurried home to sup,<br>I hears a roar by the cabin door, and a great white hulk heaves up.<br>So my rifle flashed, and a bullet crashed; dead, dead as a stone fell he,<br>And I gave a cheer, for there in his ear -- Gosh ding me! -- a tiny flea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At last, at last! Oh, I clutched it fast, and I gazed on it with pride;<br>And I thrust it into a biscuit-tin, and I shut it safe inside;<br>With a lid of glass for the light to pass, and space to leap and play;<br>Oh, it kept alive; yea, seemed to thrive, as I watched it night and day.<br>And I used to sit and sing to it, and I shielded it from harm,<br>And many a hearty feed it had on the heft of my hairy arm.<br>For you'll never know in that land of snow how lonesome a man can feel;<br>So I made a fuss of the little cuss, and I christened it "Lucille".<br>But the longest winter has its end, and the ice went out to sea,<br>And I saw one day a ship in the bay, and there was the Nancy Lee.<br>So a boat was lowered and I went aboard, and they opened wide their eyes --<br>Yes, they gave a cheer when the truth was clear, and they saw my precious prize.<br>And then it was all like a giddy dream; but to cut my story short,<br>We sailed away on the fifth of May to the foreign Prince's court;<br>To a palmy land and a palace grand, and the little Prince was there,<br>And a fat Princess in a satin dress with a crown of gold on her hair.<br>And they showed me into a shiny room, just him and her and me,<br>And the Prince he was pleased and friendly-like, and he calls for drinks for three.<br>And I shows them my battered biscuit-tin, and I makes my modest spiel,<br>And they laughed, they did, when I opened the lid, and out there popped Lucille.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, the Prince was glad, I could soon see that, and the Princess she was too;<br>And Lucille waltzed round on the tablecloth as she often used to do.<br>And the Prince pulled out a purse of gold, and he put it in my hand;<br>And he says: "It was worth all that, I'm told, to stay in that nasty land."<br>And then he turned with a sudden cry, and he clutched at his royal beard;<br>And the Princess screamed, and well she might -- for Lucille had disappeared.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"She must be here," said his Noble Nibbs, so we hunted all around;<br>Oh, we searched that place, but never a trace of the little beast we found.<br>So I shook my head, and I glumly said: "Gol darn the saucy cuss!<br>It's mighty queer, but she isn't here; so . . . she must be on one of us.<br>You'll pardon me if I make so free, but -- there's just one thing to do:<br>If you'll kindly go for a half a mo' I'll search me garments through."<br>Then all alone on the shiny throne I stripped from head to heel;<br>In vain, in vain; it was very plain that I hadn't got Lucille.<br>So I garbed again, and I told the Prince, and he scratched his august head;<br>"I suppose if she hasn't selected you, it must be me," he said.<br>So he retired; but he soon came back, and his features showed distress:<br>"Oh, it isn't you and it isn't me." . . . Then we looked at the Princess.<br>So she retired; and we heard a scream, and she opened wide the door;<br>And her fingers twain were pinched to pain, but a radiant smile she wore:<br>"It's here," she cries, "our precious prize. Oh, I found it right away. . . ."<br>Then I ran to her with a shout of joy, but I choked with a wild dismay.<br>I clutched the back of the golden throne, and the room began to reel . . .<br>What she held to me was, ah yes! a flea, but . . . it wasn't my Lucille.</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> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=508439" data-title="Lucille de Robert William Service" data-description="Of course you've heard of the Nancy Lee, and how she sailed away On her famous quest of the Arctic flea, to the wilds of Hudson's Bay? For it was a foreign Prince's whim to collect this tiny cuss, And a golden quid was no more to him than a copper..."></div> </div> </div>
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