Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.

You have an ad blocker! We understand, but...

PoetrySoup is a small privately owned website. Our means of support comes from advertising revenue. We want to keep PoetrySoup alive, make it better, and keep it free. Please support us by disabling your ad blocker on PoetrySoup. See how to enable ads while keeping your ad blocker active. Also, did you know you can become a PoetrySoup Lifetime Premium Member and block ads forever...while getting many more great features. Take a look! Thank you!


 I thought I would go daft when Joey died.
He was my first, and wise beyond his years.
For nigh a hundred nights I cried and cried, Until my weary eyes burned up my tears.
Willie and Rosie tried to comfort me: A woeful, weeping family were we.
I was a widow with no friends at all, Ironing men's shirts to buy my kiddies grub; And then one day a lawyer came to call, Me with my arms deep in the washing-tub.
The gentleman who ran poor Joey down Was willing to give us a thousand poun'.
What a godsend! It meant goodbye to care, The fear of being dumped out on the street.
Rosie and Willie could have wool to wear, And more than bread and margerine to eat .
To Joey's broken little legs we owe Our rescue from a fate of want and woe.
How happily he hurried home to me, Bringing a new-baked, crisp-brown loaf of bread.
The headlights of the car he did not see, And when help came they thought that he was dead.
He stared with wonder from a face so wan .
A long, last look and he was gone,--was gone.
We've comfort now, and yet it hurts to know We owe our joy to little, laughing Joe.

Poem by
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - JoeyEmail Poem | Create an image from this poem

Poems are below...

Top Robert William Service Poems

Analysis and Comments on Joey

Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Joey here.