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Robert W Service - The Pigeon Shooting
Work rating: Medium

They say that Monte Carlo is
A sunny place for shady people;
But I`m not in the gambling biz,
And sober as a parish steeple.
so though this paradisal spot
The devil`s playground of the rich is,
I love it and I love it not,
As men may sometimes fall for bitches.

I lazed beneath the sky`s blue bliss,
The sea swooned with a sequin glimmer;
The breeze was shy as maiden kiss,
The palms sashayed in silken shimmer.
The peace I soaked in every pore
did me more good than ten religions . . .
And then: Bang! Bang! my joy was o`er;
Says I: "There goes them poor damn pigeons."

I see them bob from out their traps,
the swarded green around them ringing;
bewildered, full of joy perhaps,
With sudden hope of skyway winging.
They blink a moment at the sun,
They flutter free of earthy tether . . .
A fat man holds a smoking gun,
A boy collects some blood and feather.

And so through all the sainted day,
Bang! Bang! a bunch of plumage gory.
Five hundred francs they cost to slay,
And few there live to tell the story . . .
Yet look! there`s one so swift to fly,
Despite the shots a course he`s steering . . .
Brave little bird! he`s winging high,
He`s gained the trees - I feel like cheering.

In Monte Carlo`s garden glades
With dreamful bliss one softly lingers,
And lazily in leafy shades
The doves pick breadcrumbs from one fingers . . .
Bang! Bang! Farewell, oh sylvan courts!
Where peace and joy are sweetly blended . . .
God curse these lousy Latin sports!
My pigeons scat, my dream is ended.
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