Here you will find the Poem An Old Story of poet Robert William Service
(Retold in Rhyme) They threw him in a prison cell; He moaned upon his bed. And when he crept from coils of hell: "Last night you killed," they said. "last night in drunken rage you slew A being brave with breath; A radiant soul, because of you Lies dark in death." "last night I killed," he moaned distraught, "When I was wild with wine; I slew, and I remember naught . . . O Mother, Mother mine! "To what unbridled rage may lead You taught me at your knew. Why did I not your warning heed . . . And now - the gallows tree. "O Mother, Mother, come to me, For I am sore distrest, And I would kneel beside your knee And weep upon your breast. . . ." They stared at him; their lips were dumb, Their eyes tear filled; Then spoke the Priest: "She cannot come . . . 'Twas she you killed."