Robert W. Service

“ A petticoated pard to cheer his solitary life,
A woman with soft, soothing ways, a confidant, a wife.
And while he cooked his supper on his little Yukon stove,
He wished that he had staked a claim in Love’s rich treasure-trove;
When suddenly he paused and held aloft a Yukon egg,
For there in pencilled letters was the magic name of Peg.
You know these Yukon eggs of ours — some pink, some green, some blue —
A dollar per, assorted tints, assorted flavors too.
The supercilious cheechako might designate them high,
But one acquires a taste for them and likes them by-and-by. ”

“ The Ballad of Hard-Luck Henry Now wouldn’t you expect to find a man an awful crank
That’s staked out nigh three hundred claims, and every one a blank;
That’s followed every fool stampede, and seen the rise and fall
Of camps where men got gold in chunks and he got none at all;
That’s prospected a bit of ground and sold it for a song
To see it yield a fortune to some fool that came along;
That’s sunk a dozen bed-rock holes, and not a speck in sight,
Yet sees them take a million from the claims to left and right?
Now aren’t things like that enough to drive a man to booze? ”

“ It’s also true I longed for you and wrote it on an egg.
My heart went out to someone in that land of night and cold;
But oh, I fear that Yukon egg must have been mighty old.
I waited long, I hoped and feared; you should have come before;
I’ve been a wedded woman now for eighteen months or more.
I’m sorry, since you’ve come so far, you ain’t the one that wins ”