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The Cremation of Sam McGee by Robert Service

The Cremation of Sam McGee By Robert Service
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold The Arctic trails have their secret tales
that would make your blood run cold The Northern Lights
have seen queer sights, but the queerest they ever did see
was that night on the marge of lake lebarge
i cremated sam mcgee now sam mcgee was
from tennessee where the cotton blooms and blows
why he left his home in the south to roam
round the pole god only knows
he was always cold but the land of gold
seem to hold him like a spell
though he'd often say in his homely way
that he'd sooner live in hell on a christmas day
we were mushing our way over the dawson trail.
talk of your cold! THROUGH THE PARKS'S FOLD
IT STABBED LIKE A DRIVEN NAIL if our eyes we'd close
then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see
it wasn't much fun but the only one
to whimper was sam mcgee
and that very night as we lay packed tight
in our robes beneath the snow
and the dogs were fed and the stars o'erhead
were dancing heel and toe
he turned to me and "Cap" says he
I'll cash in this trip, I guess
and if i do I'm asking that you
won't refuse my last request
well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no
then he says with a sort of moan
it the cursed cold and it's got right hold
till I'm chilled clean through to the bone
yet tain't being dead it's my awful dread
of the icy grave that pains
so i want you to swear that soul or fair
you'll cremate my last remains
Created by: dbush