Out of Context

Ballads of a Cheechako
Robert W. (Robert William) Service

You know these Yukon eggs of ours–some pink, some green, some blue–
A dollar per, assorted tints, assorted flavors too.
The supercilious cheechako might designate them high,
But one acquires a taste for them and likes them by-and-by.
Well, Hard-Luck Henry took this egg and held it to the light,
And there was more faint pencilling that sorely taxed his sight.
At last he made it out, and then the legend ran like this–
“Will Klondike miner write to Peg, Plumhollow, Squashville, Wis.?”

That night he got to thinking of this far-off, unknown fair;
It seemed so sort of opportune, an answer to his prayer.
She flitted sweetly through his dreams, she haunted him by day,
She smiled through clouds of nicotine, she cheered his weary way.
At last he yielded to the spell; his course of love he set–
Wisconsin his objective point; his object, Margaret.