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Robert W Service - Yellow
Work rating: Medium

One pearly day in early May 
	     I walked upon the sand
	And saw, say half a mile away, 
	     a man with gun in hand.
	A dog was cowering to his will 
	     as slow he sought to creep
	Upon a dozen ducks so still 
	     they seemed to be asleep.

	When like a streak the dog dashed out, 
	     the ducks flashed up in flight.
	The fellow gave a savage shout 
	     and cursed with all his might.
	Then as I stood somewhat amazed 
	     and gazed with eyes agog,
	With bitter rage his gun he raised 
	     and blazed and shot the dog.
	
	You know how dogs can yelp with pain; 
	     its blood soaked in the sand,
	And yet it crawled to him again, 
	     and tried to lick his hand.
	"Forgive me Lord for what I`ve done," 
	     it seemed as if it said,
	But once again he raised his gun — 
	     this time he shot it dead.

	What could I do?  What could I say?  
	     `Twas such a lonely place.
	Tongue-tied I watched him stride away, 
	     I never saw his face.
	I should have bawled the bastard out, 
	     a yellow dog he slew.
	But worse, he proved beyond a doubt 
	     that - I was yellow too.
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