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The of Sam McGee

The Cremation of Sam
(Robert W. Service)

There are strange things done the midnight sun
by the men who for gold.
The arctic trails have their secret
would make your blood run cold.
The northern have seen queer sights
but the queerest they did see,
was that night on the marge of Lake
I Sam McGee.

Now Sam was from Tennessee
where the blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the to roam
the pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the of gold
seemed to him like a spell,
though he'd often say in his way
that he'd sooner in Hell.

On a Christmas day we mushing our way
over the trail.
of your cold! through the parka's fold
it like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes
sometimes we couldn't see.
It wasn't fun, but the only one
to was Sam McGee.

And that very while we lay packed tight
in our robes the snow,
and the dogs were fed, and the o'er head
were dancing and toe,
he turns to me, and "Cap" he
"I'll in this trip, I guess.
And if I do, I'm asking you
won't refuse my request."

Well, he looked so low that I say no,
then he with a sort of a moan,
"It's the cursed cold, it's got right
'til I'm chilled clean to the bone.
Yet being dead, it's my awful dread
of an icy that pains.
So I want you to swear foul or fair,
you'll cremate my remains."

Well, a friend's last need is a to heed,
so I I would not fail.
We started on at the of dawn,
but, God, he ghastly pale!
He crouched on the sleigh, and he all day
of his in Tennessee,
and nightfall, a corpse was all
that was of Sam McGee.

There a breath in that land of death,
and I hurried on, driven
With a half hid, that I couldn't get rid,
because of a given.
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it to say,
"You may tax brawn and brains,
but you promised true, and up to you
to cremate last remains."

Now, a made is a debt unpaid
And the trail has its own code,
In the days to come, though my lips were
In my heart, how I cursed load.
In the long, long night, by the firelight
While the huskiers, round in a
Howled out their woes to the snows
Oh God! How I the thing.

And day that quiet clay
to heavy and heavier grow.
But on I went, though the were spent
and the was getting low.
The trail was bad, and I half mad,
but I swore I would not in.
And I'd often sing to the hateful
and it with a grin!

Then I came to the of Lake LeBarge
and a derelict lay.
It was in the ice, but I saw in a trice
it was the "Alice May".
And I at it, and I thought a bit,
And I looked at my chum,
"Here" said I with a sudden cry
"is my cre-ma-tor-eum!"

Some I tore from the cabin floor
and I lit the fire.
Some coal I found was lying around
and I heaped the higher.
The flames soared and the furnace roared,
such a blaze you see.
Then I burrowed a hole in the coal
and I in Sam McGee.

Then I a hike, for I didn't like
to him sizzle so.
And the heavens scowled and the howled
and the began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot rolled
down my cheeks, and I don't why.
And the greasy smoke in an cloak
went streaking the sky.

I do not how long in the snow
I with grisly fear.
But the stars were out and they about
again I ventured near.
I was sick dread, but I bravely said
"I'll take a peek inside.
He's cooked, and it's time I looked."
Then the I opened wide.

And sat Sam, looking cold and calm
in the heart of the roar.
He wore a smile you see a mile,
and he "Please close that door!
It's in here, but I greatly fear
let in the cold and storm.
Since I Plumtree, down in Tennessee,
it's the first time I've warm."

There are strange things done the midnight sun
by the men who for gold.
The trails have their secret tales
that make your blood run cold.
The northern lights have seen sights,
but the queerest ever did see
was that night on the of Lake LeBarge
I Sam McGee.

AJS