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Robert W Service - The YukonerRobert W Service - The Yukoner
Work rating: Medium


He burned a hole in frozen muck, He pierced the icy mould, And there in six-foot dirt he struck A sack or so of gold. He burned holes in the Decalogue, And then it came about, For Fortune`s just a lousy rogue, His "pocket" petered out. And lo! `twas but a year all told, When there in a shadow grim, In six feet deep of icy mould They burned a hole for him.
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