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Robert W Service - The Receptionist
Work rating: Medium

France is the fairest land on earth,
          Lovely to heart`s desire,
And twice a year I span its girth,
          Its beauty to admire.
But when a pub I seek each night,
          To my profound vexation
On form they hand me I`ve to write
                    My occupation.

So once in a derisive mood
          My pen I nibbled;
And though I know I never should:
          `Gangster` I scribbled.
But as the clerk with startled face
          Looked stark suspicion,
I blurred it out and in its place
                    Put `Politician.`

Then suddenly dissolved his frown;
          His face fused to a grin,
As humorously he set down
          The form I handed in.
His shrug was eloquent to view.
          Quoth he: `What`s in a name?
In France, alas! the lousy two
                    Are just the same.`
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