THE PARSON'S SON 



I'm one of the Arctic brotherhood, I'm an old-time pioneer. 



I came with the first — O God! how I've cursed this Yukon — but still 



I'm here. 

 I've sweated athirst in its summer heat, I've frozen and starved in 



its cold ; 

 I've followed my dreams by its thousand streams, I've toiled and 



moiled for its gold. 



Look at my eyes — been snow-blind twice ; look where my foot's half 



gone ; 

 And that gruesome scar on my left cheek, where the frost-fiend bit to 



the bone. 

 Each one a brand of this devil's land, where I've played and I've lost 



the game, 

 A broken wreck with a craze for " hooch," and never a cent to my name. 



— Robert Service. 



