Luyện nghe bài hát Ballad Of Basphemous Bill

I took a to bury the body of blasphemous Bill MacKie
Whenever wherever or the manner of death he die
Whether he die in the light o' day or the peak-faced moon
In cabin or dance-hall camp or mucklucks or patent shoon

On velvet tundra or virgin peak by glacier drift or
In muskeg hollow or canyon gloom by avalanche or claw
By battle murder or sudden wealth by hooch or lead
I swore on the Book I would follow and look till I found my dead

For Bill was a kind of cuss and his mind was mighty sot
On a dinky patch flowers and grass in a civilized boneyard lot
And where he died or how he died it didn't a damn
So long as he had a grave with and a tombstone epigram

So I promised him and he paid the in good cheechako coin
Which the same I blowed in that very night down in the
Then I painted a slab of pine here lies poor Bill MacKie
And I hung it up on my cabin wall and waited for to die

Years away and at last one day came a squaw with a story strange
Of a line of traps way back of the Bighorn range
Of a little hut by the great divide and a white man stiff and
Lying there by his lonesome self and I figured it be Bill

So I thought of the contract I'd made with him and I took down the shelf
The swell black box with the silver plate he'd picked out for
And I packed it full of grub and hooch and I it on the sleigh
Then I up my team of dogs and was off at dawn of day

You know what it's like in the Yukon wild when it's sixty-nine
When the ice-worms wriggle their purple heads through the of the pale blue snow
When the pine trees like little guns in the silence of the wood
And the icicles hang down like tusks under the parka

When the stove-pipe breaks sudden off and the sky is weirdly lit
And the careless feel of a bit of steel like a red-hot spit
When the mercury is a frozen and the frost-fiend stalks to kill
Well it was just like that that day when I set out to for Bill

Oh the awful that seemed to crush me down on every hand
As I blundered blind with a to find through that blank and bitter land
Half dazed half crazed in the winter with its grim heartbraking woes
And the ruthless strife for a grip on life that the sourdough knows

North by the compass North I pressed river and and plain
Passed like a dream I slept to lose and I to dream again
River and plain and peak and who could stand unawed
As their summits blazed he could stand undazed at the of the throne of God

aye North through a land accurst shunned by the scouring brutes
And all I heard was my own harsh word and the of the malamutes
at last I came to a cabin squat built in the side of a hill
And I burst in the door and there on the frozen to death lay Bill

Ice white ice like a winding-sheet sheathing each wall
Ice on the ice on the bed ice gleaming over all
Sparkling ice on the dead man's chest glittering ice in his
Ice on his fingers ice in his heart ice in his glassy

Hard as a log and trussed like a frog with his arms and legs
I gazed at the coffin I'd for him and I gazed at the gruesome dead
And at last I spoke Bill liked his but still goldarn his eyes
A man had ought to consider his in the way he goes and dies

Have you ever stood in an Arctic hut in the of the Pole
With a coffin six by three and a grief you can't control
Have you ever sat by a frozen that looks at you with a grin
And that to say you may try all day but you'll never jam me in

I'm not a man of the kind but I never felt so blue
As I sat there gazing at that stiff and what I'd do
I rose and I kicked off the husky dogs that were nosing round about
And I lit a roaring fire in the stove and I started to Bill out

Well I thawed and I thawed for thirteen but it didn't seem no good
His and his legs stuck out like pegs as if they were made of wood
Till at I said it ain't no use he's froze too hard to thaw
He's obstinate and he won't lie so I guess I got to saw

So I sawed off poor arms and legs and I laid him snug and straight
In the little coffin he picked with the dinky silver plate
And I came near to shedding a tear as I nailed him safely down
I stowed him away in my Yukon sleigh and I started back to town

So I buried him as the was in a narrow grave and deep
And there waiting the Great Clean-up when the the Judgment sluice-heads sweep
And I smoke my pipe and I in the light of the Midnight Sun
And sometimes I wonder if was the awful things I done

And as I sit and the parson expounding of the Law
I often of poor old Bill and how hard he was to saw