The Man From Eldorado

Robert William Service 1874 – 1958

He's the man from Eldorado, and he's just arrived in town,
  In moccasins and oily buckskin shirt.
He's gaunt as any Indian, and pretty nigh as brown;
  He's greasy, and he smells of sweat and dirt.
He sports a crop of whiskers that would shame a healthy hog;
  Hard work has racked his joints and stooped his back;
He slops along the sidewalk followed by his yellow dog,
  But he's got a bunch of gold-dust in his sack.

He seems a little wistful as he blinks at all the lights,
  And maybe he is thinking of his claim
And the dark and dwarfish cabin where he lay and dreamed at nights,
  (Thank God, he'll never see the place again!)
Where he lived on tinned tomatoes, beef embalmed and sourdough bread,
  On rusty beans and bacon furred with mould;
His stomach's out of kilter and his system full of lead,
  But it's over, and his poke is full of gold.

He has panted at the windlass, he has loaded in the drift,
  He has pounded at the face of oozy clay;
He has taxed himself to sickness, dark and damp and double shift,
  He has labored like a demon night and day.
And now, praise God, it's over, and he seems to breathe again
  Of new-mown hay, the warm, wet, friendly loam;
He sees a snowy orchard in a green and dimpling plain,
  And a little vine-clad cottage, and it's--Home.

II

He's the man from Eldorado, and he's had a bite and sup,
  And he's met in with a drouthy friend or two;
He's cached away his gold-dust, but he's sort of bucking up,
  So he's kept enough to-night to see him through.
His eye is bright and genial, his tongue no longer lags;
`His heart is brimming o'er with joy and mirth;
He may be far from savory, he may be clad in rags,
`But to-night he feels as if he owns the earth.

Says he: "Boys, here is where the shaggy North and I will shake;
  I thought I'd never manage to get free.
I kept on making misses; but at last I've got my stake;
  There's no more thawing frozen muck for me.
I am going to God's Country, where I'll live the simple life;
  I'll buy a bit of land and make a start;
I'll carve a little homestead, and I'll win a little wife,
  And raise ten little kids to cheer my heart."

They signified their sympathy by crowding to the bar;
  They bellied up three deep and drank his health.
He shed a radiant smile around and smoked a rank cigar;
  They wished him honor, happiness and wealth.
They drank unto his wife to be--that unsuspecting maid;
  They drank unto his children half a score;
And when they got through drinking very tenderly they laid
  The man from Eldorado on the floor.

III

He's the man from Eldorado, and he's only starting in
  To cultivate a thousand-dollar jag.
His poke is full of gold-dust and his heart is full of sin,
  And he's dancing with a girl called Muckluck Mag.
She's as light as any fairy; she's as pretty as a peach;
  She's mistress of the witchcraft to beguile;
There's sunshine in her manner, there is music in her speech,
  And there's concentrated honey in her smile.

Oh, the fever of the dance-hall and the glitter and the shine,
  The beauty, and the jewels, and the whirl,
The madness of the music, the rapture of the wine,
  The languorous allurement of a girl!
She is like a lost madonna; he is gaunt, unkempt and grim;
  But she fondles him and gazes in his eyes;
Her kisses seek his heavy lips, and soon it seems to him
  He has staked a little claim in Paradise.

"Who's for a juicy two-step?" cries the master of the floor;
  The music throbs with soft, seductive beat.
There's glitter, gilt and gladness; there are pretty girls galore;
  There's a woolly man with moccasins on feet.
They know they've got him going; he is buying wine for all;
  They crowd around as buzzards at a feast,
Then when his poke is empty they boost him from the hall,
  And spurn him in the gutter like a beast.

He's the man from Eldorado, and he's painting red the town;
  Behind he leaves a trail of yellow dust;
In a whirl of senseless riot he is ramping up and down;
  There's nothing checks his madness and his lust.
And soon the word is passed around--it travels like a flame;
  They fight to clutch his hand and call him friend,
The chevaliers of lost repute, the dames of sorry fame;
  Then comes the grim awakening--the end.

IV

He's the man from Eldorado, and he gives a grand
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

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Robert William Service

Robert William Service was a poet and writer sometimes referred to as the Bard of the Yukon He is best-known for his writings on the Canadian North including the poems The Shooting of Dan McGrew The Law of the Yukon and The Cremation of Sam McGee His writing was so expressive that his readers took him for a hard-bitten old Klondike prospector not the later-arriving bank clerk he actually was Robert William Service was born 16 January 1874 in Preston England but also lived in Scotland before emigrating to Canada in 1894 Service went to the Yukon Territory in 1904 as a bank clerk and became famous for his poems about this region which are mostly in his first two books of poetry He wrote quite a bit of prose as well and worked as a reporter for some time but those writings are not nearly as well known as his poems He travelled around the world quite a bit and narrowly escaped from France at the beginning of the Second World War during which time he lived in Hollywood California He died 11 September 1958 in France Incidentally he played himself in a movie called The Spoilers starring John Wayne and Marlene Dietrich more…

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"The Man From Eldorado" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 15 Aug. 2020. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/32588/the-man-from-eldorado>.

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