A Cabbage Patch

By Robert W Service

Folk ask if I'm alive,

          Most think I'm not;

Yet gaily I contrive

          To till my plot.

The world its way can go,

          I little heed,

So long as I can grow

          The grub I need.

For though long overdue,

          The years to me,

Have taught a lesson true,

          —Humility.

Such better men than I

          I've seen pass on;

Their pay-off when they die;

          —Oblivion.

And so I mock at fame,

          With books unread;

No monument I claim

          When I am dead;

Contented as I see

          My cottage thatch

That my last goal should be

          —A cabbage patch.