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Robert W Service - The Lunger
Work rating: Medium

Jack would laugh an` joke all day;
Never saw a lad so gay;
Singin` like a medder lark,
Loaded to the Plimsoll mark
With God`s sunshine was that boy;
Had a strangle-holt on Joy.
Held his head `way up in air,
Left no callin` cards on Care;
Breezy, buoyant, brave and true;
Sent his sunshine out to you;
Cheerfulest when clouds was black —
     Happy Jack! Oh, Happy Jack!

Sittin` in my shack alone
I could hear him in his own,
Singin` far into the night,
Till it didn`t seem just right
One man should corral the fun,
Live his life so in the sun;
Didn`t seem quite natural
Not to have a grouch at all;
Not a trouble, not a lack —
     Happy Jack! Oh, Happy Jack!

He was plumbful of good cheer
Till he struck that low-down year;
Got so thin, so little to him,
You could most see day-light through him.
Never was his eye so bright,
Never was his cheek so white.
Seemed as if somethin` was wrong,
Sort o` quaver in his song.
Same old smile, same hearty voice:
"Bless you, boys! let`s all rejoice!"
But old Doctor shook his head:
"Half a lung," was all he said.
Yet that half was surely right,
For I heard him every night,
Singin`, singin` in his shack —
     Happy Jack! Oh, Happy Jack!

Then one day a letter came
Endin` with a female name;
Seemed to get him in the neck,
Sort o` pile-driver effect;
Paled his lip and plucked his breath,
Left him starin` still as death.
Somethin` had gone awful wrong,
Yet that night he sang his song.
Oh, but it was good to hear!
For there clutched my heart a fear,
So that I quaked listenin`
Every night to hear him sing.
But each day he laughed with me,
An` his smile was full of glee.
Nothin` seemed to set him back —
     Happy Jack! Oh, Happy Jack!

Then one night the singin` stopped . . .
Seemed as if my heart just flopped;
For I`d learned to love the boy
With his gilt-edged line of joy,
With his glorious gift of bluff,
With his splendid fightin` stuff.
Sing on, lad, and play the game!
O dear God! . . . no singin` came,
But there surged to me instead —
Silence, silence, deep and dread;
Till I shuddered, tried to pray,
Said: "He`s maybe gone away."
Oh, yes, he had gone away,
Gone forever and a day.
But he`d left behind him there,
In his cabin, pinched and bare,
His poor body, skin and bone,
His sharp face, cold as a stone.
An` his stiffened fingers pressed
Somethin` bright upon his breast:
Locket with a silken curl,
Poor, sweet portrait of a girl.
Yet I reckon at the last
How defiant-like he passed;
For there sat upon his lips
Smile that death could not eclipse;
An` within his eyes lived still
Joy that dyin` could not kill.

An` now when the nights are long,
How I miss his cheery song!
How I sigh an` wish him back!
     Happy Jack! Oh, Happy Jack!
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