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Katie Drummond

My Louis loved me oh so well
And spiered me for his wife;
He would have haled me from the hell
That was my bawdy life:
The mother of his bairns to be,
Daftlike he saw in me.
 
But I, a hizzie of the town
Just telt him we must part;
Loving too well to drag him down
I tore him from my heart:
To save the honour of his name
I went back to my shame.
 
They say he soared to starry fame,
Romance flowed from his pen;
A prince of poets he became,
Pride of his fellow men:
My breast was pillow for his head,
Yet naught of his I’ve read.
 
Smoking my cutty pipe the while,
In howths of Leith I lag;
* My Louis lies in South Sea isle
As I a sodden hag
Live on . . . Oh Love, by men enskied
The day you went—I died.
 
 
*R.L.S.

Other works by Robert W. Service...



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