Tonight I will finally celebrating my triumphant arrival at 30 years of living with my friends as last weekend was family time. I chose the Bard and Banker as it's named in honour of Robert Service (the pub's building was once a bank which Robert Service worked in before moving to the Yukon). As I have mentioned in the past, he is my favourite poet and he immortalized the Yukon in his works. For me, he is synonymous with my love of the Klondike. I plan to hike the Chilkoot in my thirties, why not start my thirties by drinking in the building he worked in? I present to you, instead of a proper blog post, a poem by Robert Service.
And you're sore as a boil, it’s according to Hoyle
To cock your revolver and . . . die.
But the Code of a Man says: "Fight all you can,"
And self-dissolution is barred.
In hunger and woe, oh, it’s easy to blow . . .
It’s the hell-served-for-breakfast that’s hard.
"You're sick of the game!" Well, now that’s a shame.
You're young and you're brave and you're bright.
"You've had a raw deal!" I know — but don't squeal,
Buck up, do your damnedest, and fight.
It’s the plugging away that will win you the day,
So don't be a piker, old pard!
Just draw on your grit, it’s so easy to quit.
It’s the keeping-your chin-up that’s hard.
It’s easy to cry that you're beaten — and die;
It’s easy to crawfish and crawl;
But to fight and to fight when hope’s out of sight —
Why that’s the best game of them all!
And though you come out of each gruelling bout,
All broken and battered and scarred,
Just have one more try — it’s dead easy to die,
It’s the keeping-on-living that’s hard.