Where are the dames I used to know <br />In Dawson in the days of yore? <br />Alas, it's fifty years ago, <br />And most, I guess, have "gone before." <br />The swinging scythe is swift to mow <br />Alike the gallant and the fair; <br />And even I, with gouty toe, <br />Am glad to fill a rocking chair. <br /> <br />Ah me, I fear each gaysome girl <br />Who in champagne I used to toast, <br />or cozen in the waltz's whirl, <br />In now alas, a wistful ghost. <br />Oh where is Touch The Button Nell? <br />Or Minnie Dale or Rosa Lee, <br />Or Lorna Doone or Daisy Bell? <br />And where is Montreal Maree? <br /> <br />Fair ladies of my lusty youth, <br />I fear that you are dead and gone: <br />Where's Gertie of the Diamond Tooth, <br />And where the Mare of Oregon? <br />What's come of Violet de Vere, <br />Claw-fingered Kate and Gumboot Sue? <br />They've crossed the Great Divide, I fear; <br />Remembered now by just a few. <br /> <br />A few who like myself can see <br />Through half a century of haze <br />A heap of goodness in their glee <br />And kindness in their wanton ways. <br />Alas, my sourdough days are dead, <br />Yet let me toss a tankard down . . . <br />Here's hoping that you wed and bred, <br />And lives of circumspection led, <br />Gay dance-hall girls o Dawson Town!<br /><br />Robert William Service<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dance-hall-girls/
