alexpgp | And speaking of dives...

I am reminded of the marvelous music in the poems of Robert W. Service, especially the flow of syllables in one called The Ballad of Blasphemous Bill.

Just check out the first stanza:

I took a contract to bury the body of Blasphemous Bill MacKie,
Whenever, wherever, or whatsoever the manner of death he die—
Whether he die in the light o' day or under the peak-faced moon;
In cabin or dance-hall, camp, or dive, mucklucks or patent shoon;
On velvet tundra or virgin peak, by glacier, drift, or draw;
In muskeg hollow or canyon gloom, by avalanche, fang, or claw;
By battle, murder, or sudden wealth, by pestilence, hooch, or lead—
I swore on the Book I would follow and look 'til I found my tombless dead.

A bunch of dactyls, for sure, but you get drawn into the story too fast to really pay attention.

Cheers...