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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508703" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Ballad Of The Leather Medal</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Only a Leather Medal, hanging there on the wall,<br>Dingy and frayed and faded, dusty and worn and old;<br>Yet of my humble treasures I value it most of all,<br>And I wouldn't part with that medal if you gave me its weight in gold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Read the inscription: For Valour - presented to Millie MacGee.<br>Ah! how in mem'ry it takes me back to the &quot;auld lang syne,&quot;<br>When Millie and I were sweethearts, and fair as a flower was she -<br>Yet little I dreamt that her bosom held the heart of heroine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Listen! I'll tell you about it... An orphan was Millie MacGee,<br>Living with Billie her brother, under the Yukon sky,<br>Sam, her pa, was cremated in the winter of nineteen-three,<br>As duly and truly related by the pen of an author guy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A cute little kid was Billie, solemn and silken of hair,<br>The image of Jackie Coogan in the days before movies could speak.<br>Devoted to him was Millie, with more than a mother's care,<br>And happy were they together in their cabin on Bunker Creek.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twas only a mining village, where hearts are simple and true,<br>And Millie MacGee was schoolma'am, loved and admired by all;<br>Yet no one dreamed for a moment she'd do what she dared to do -<br>But wait and I'll try to tell you, as clear as I can recall...</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> . . . . . . . . . . . . . .</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Christmas Eve in the school-house! A scene of glitter and glee;<br>The children eager and joyful; parents and neighbours too;<br>Right in the forefront, Millie, close to the Christmas Tree.<br>While Billie, her brother, recited &quot;The Shooting of Dan McGrew.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I reckon you've heard the opus, a ballad of guts and gore;<br>Of a Yukon frail and a frozen trail and a fight in a dringing dive,<br>It's on a par, I figger, with &quot;The Face on the Bar-Room Floor,&quot;<br>And the boys who wrote them pieces ought to be skinned alive.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Picture that scene of gladness; the honest faces aglow;<br>The kiddies gaping and spellbound, as Billie strutted his stuff.<br>The stage with its starry candles, and there in the foremost row,<br>Millie, bright as a fairy, in radient flounce and fluff.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">More like an angel I thought her; all she needed was wings,<br>And I sought for a smile seraphic, but her eyes were only for Bill;<br>So there was I longing and loving, and dreaming the craziest things,<br>And Billie shouting and spouting, and everyone rapt and still.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Proud as a prince was Billie, bang in the footlights' glare,<br>And quaking for him was Millie, as she followed every word;<br>Then just as he reached the climax, ranting and sawing the air -<br>Ugh! How it makes me shudder! The horrible thing occurred...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twas the day when frocks were frilly, and skirts were scraping the ground,<br>And the snowy flounces of Millie like sea foam round her swept;<br>Humbly adoring I watched her - when oh, my heart gave a bound!<br>Hoary and scarred and hideous, out from the tree...it...crept.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A whiskered, beady-eyes monster, grisly and grim of hue;<br>Savage and slinking and silent, born of the dark and dirt;<br>Dazed by the glare and the glitter, it wavered a moment or two -<br>Then like a sinister shadow, it vanished... 'neath Millie's skirt.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I stared. had my eyes deceived me? I shivered. I held my breath.<br>Surly I must have dreamed it. I quivered. I made to rise...<br>Then - my God! it was real. Millie grew pale as death;<br>And oh, such a look of terror woke in her lovely eyes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Did her scream ring out? Ah no, sir. It froze at her very lips.<br>Clenching her teeth she checked it, and I saw her slim hands lock,<br>Grasping and gripping tensely, with desperate finger tips,<br>Something that writhed and wriggled under her dainty frock.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Quick I'd have dashed to her rescue, but fiercely she signalled: &quot;No!&quot;<br>Her eyes were dark with anguish, but her lips were set and grim;<br>Then I knew she was thinking of Billie - the kiddy must have his show,<br>Reap to the full his glory, nothing mattered but him.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So spiked to my chair with horror, there I shuddered and saw<br>Her fingrs frenziedly clutching and squeezing with all their might<br>Something that squirmed and struggled, a deamon of tooth and claw,<br>Fighting with fear and fury, under her garment white.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh could I only aid her! But the wide room lay between,<br>And again her eyes besought me: &quot;Steady!&quot; they seamed to say.<br>&quot;Stay where you are, Bob Simmons; don't let us have a scene,<br>Billie will soon be finished. Only a moment...stay!&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A moment! Ah yes, I got her. I knew how night after night<br>She'd learned him each line of that ballad with patience and pride and glee;<br>With gesture and tone dramatic, she'd taught him how to recite...<br>And now at the last to fail him - no, it must never be.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A moment! It seemed like ages. Why was Billie so slow?<br>He stammered. Twice he repeated: &quot;The Lady that's known as Lou -&quot;<br>The kiddy was stuck and she knew it. Her face was frantic with woe.<br>Could she but come to his rescue? Could she remember the cue?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I saw her whispering wildly as she leaned to the frightened boy;<br>But Billie stared like a dummy, and I stifled an anxious curse.<br>Louder, louder she prompted; then his face illumined with joy,<br>And panting, flushed and exultant, he finished the final verse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So the youngster would up like a whirlwind, while cheer resounded on cheer;<br>His piece was the hit of the evening. &quot;Bravo!&quot; I heard them say.<br>But there in the heart of the racket was one who could not hear -<br>The loving sister who'd coached him; for Millie had fainted away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I rushed to her side and grabbed her; then others saw her distress,<br>And all were eager to aid me, as I pillowed that golden head,<br>But her arms were tense and rigid, and clutched in the folds of her dress,<br>Unlocking her hands they found it . . . A RAT . . . and the brute was dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In silence she'd crushed its life out, rather than scare the crowd,<br>And queer little Billie's triumph . . . Hey! Mother, what about tea?<br>I've just been telling a story that makes me so mighty proud...<br>Stranger, let me present you - my wife, that was Millie MacGee.</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=508703" data-title="The Ballad Of The Leather Medal de Robert William Service" data-description="Only a Leather Medal, hanging there on the wall,
Dingy and frayed and faded, dusty and worn and old;
Yet of my humble treasures I value it most of all,
And I wouldn't part with that medal if you gave me its weight in gold.

Read the inscription: F..."></div>
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