Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=508692" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Ballad Of Hank The Finn</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=508692" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Now Fireman Flynn met Hank the Finn where lights of Lust-land glow;<br>"Let's leave," says he, "the lousy sea, and give the land a show.<br>I'm fed up to the molar mark with wallopin' the brine;<br>I feel the bloody barnacles a-carkin' on me spine.<br>Let's hit the hard-boiled North a crack, where creeks are paved with gold."<br>"You count me in," says Hank the Finn. "Ay do as Ay ban told."</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=508692" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And so they sought the Lonely Land and drifted down its stream,<br>Where sunny silence round them spanned, as dopey as a dream.<br>But to the spell of flood and fell their gold-grimed eyes were blind;<br>By pine and peak they paused to seek, but nothing did they find;<br>No yellow glint of dust to mint, just mud and mocking sand,<br>And a hateful hush that seemed to crush them down on every hand.<br>Till Fireman Flynn grew mean as sin, and cursed his comrade cold,<br>But Hank the Finn would only grin, and . . . do as he was told.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=508692" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Now Fireman Flynn had pieces ten of yellow Yankee gold,<br>Which every night he would invite his partner to behold.<br>"Look hard," says he; "It's all you'll see in this god-blasted land;<br>But you fret, I'm gonna let you hold them i your hand.<br>Yeah! Watch 'em gleam, then go and dream they're yours to have and hold."<br>Then Hank the Finn would scratch his chin and . . . do as he was told.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=508692" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">But every night by camp-fire light, he'd incubate his woes,<br>And fan the hate of mate for mate, the evil Artic knows.<br>In dreams the Lapland withes gloomed like gargoyles overhead,<br>While the devils three of Helsinkee came cowering by his bed.<br>"Go take," said they, "the yellow loot he's clinking in his belt,<br>And leave the sneaking wolverines to snout around his pelt.<br>Last night he called you Swedish scum, from out the glory-hole;<br>To-day he said you were a bum, and damned your mother's soul.<br>Go, plug with lead his scurvy head, and grab his greasy gold . . ."<br>Then Hank the Finn saw red within, and . . . did as he was told.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=508692" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">So in due course the famous Force of Men Who Get Their Man,<br>Swooped down on sleeping Hank the Finn, and popped him in the can.<br>And in due time his grievous crime was judged without a plea,<br>And he was dated up to swing upon the gallows tree.<br>Then Sheriff gave a party in the Law's almighty name,<br>He gave a neck-tie party, and he asked me to the same.<br>There was no hooch a-flowin' and his party wasn't gay,<br>For O our hearts were heavy at the dawning of the day.<br>There was no band a-playin' and the only dancin' there<br>Was Hank the Fin interpretin' his solo in the air.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=508692" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">We climbed the scaffold steps and stood beside the knotted rope.<br>We watched the hooded hangman and his eyes were dazed with dope.<br>The Sheriff was in evening dress; a bell began to toll,<br>A beastly bell that struck a knell of horror to the soul.<br>As if the doomed one was myself, I shuddered, waiting there.<br>I spoke no word, then . . . then I heard his step upon the stair;<br>His halting foot, moccasin clad . . . and then I saw him stand<br>Between a weeping warder and a priest with Cross in hand.<br>And at the sight a murmur rose of terror and of awe,<br>And all them hardened gallows fans were sick at what they saw:<br>For as he towered above the mob, his limbs with leather triced,<br>By all that's wonderful, I swear, his face was that of Christ.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=508692" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Now I ain't no blaspheming cuss, so don't you start to shout.<br>You see, his beard had grown so long it framed his face about.<br>His rippling hair was long and fair, his cheeks were spirit-pale,<br>His face was bright with holy light that made us wince and quail.<br>He looked at us with eyes a-shine, and sore were we confused,<br>As if he were the Judge divine, and we were the accused.<br>Aye, as serene he stood between the hangman and the cord,<br>You would have sworn, with anguish torn, he was the Blessed Lord.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=508692" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The priest was wet with icy sweat, the Sheriff's lips were dry,<br>And we were staring starkly at the man who had to die.<br>"Lo! I am raised above you all," his pale lips seemed to say,<br>"For in a moment I shall leap to God's Eternal Day.<br>Am I not happy! I forgive you each for what you do;<br>Redeemed and penitent I go, with heart of love for you."<br>So there he stood in mystic mood, with scorn sublime of death.<br>I saw him gently kiss the Cross, and then I held by breath.<br>That blessed smile was blotted out; they dropped the hood of black;<br>They fixed the noose around his neck, the rope was hanging slack.<br>I heard him pray, I saw him sway, then . . . then he was not there;<br>A rope, a ghastly yellow rope was jerking in the air;<br>A jigging rope that soon was still; a hush as of the tomb,<br>And Hank the Finn, that man of sin, had met his rightful doom.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=508692" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">His rightful doom! Now that's the point. I'm wondering, because<br>I hold a man is what he is, and never what he was.<br>You see, the priest had filled that guy so full of holy dope,<br>That at the last he came to die as pious as the Pope.<br>A gentle ray of sunshine made a halo round his head.<br>I thought to see a sinner - lo! I saw a Saint instead.<br>Aye, as he stood as martyrs stand, clean-cleansed of mortal dross,<br>I think he might have gloried had . . . WE NAILED HIM TO A CROSS.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Robert+William+Service">Robert William Service</a></strong></div>