Just Like McGrew’s

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Place gets downright 
Smoky. 
Once inside the swinging doors. 
Too many thighs evident 
And spangles. The Girls. 
Couple going upstairs already 
With some Pooch. 
Gold dust in hand. 
His head buzzing. 
Piano tunes giving “culture”. 
General din of unshaven 
Stinking men. 
Whiskey charged. 

I see Mack 
At the back 
Poker chips in the attack. 
Last month 
Tried to hoist my stake. 
Shot off his left ear. 
Oh dear, he’s getting up. 
The big wager is now going 
To be My neck. 

Heck.

About this poem

Giving thanks for the Klondike poem by Robert W. Service. The Shooting of Da

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